


Of Men and Monsters

by UnnecessaryEllipsis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Hanzo Shimada, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fantasy kitchen sink, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Monster Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Multi, Necromancer Gabriel Reyes, Original Character(s), Overwatch - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sombra is a little shit, Unreliable Narrator, Werewolf Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-05-05 04:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 108,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14609247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnnecessaryEllipsis/pseuds/UnnecessaryEllipsis
Summary: 30 years ago, omnics rose up and the mythical and supernatural beings of the world took advantage of the situation, striking back at humans. An organization rose up, a motley crew of skilled soldiers, both human and supernatural. This organization came to be known colloquially as "Overwatch".As time went on, the organization began to split into different opinions. Some thought it best to just kill nonhumans outright, some thought that only the dangerous ones should be stopped and some that thought that it wasn't that easy. The organization crumbled under the weight of its own infighting. In its wake, other organizations rose in the name of keeping the world "safe". Talon, a group no better than a mafia, demanding payment for their protection. Volskaya, a company that supplies weapons and armor to the militaries of the world while hiding dirty secrets, and Vishkar, a shady organization looking to build cities that catalog all residents of all species to ensure order.Following a sudden increase in attacks, Overwatch is called back into action by Winston and the battle begins anew for old and new members alike.[REWRITTEN VERSION]Updates biweekly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back everyone! This upload marks the beginning of the rewritten version of Of Men and Monsters. Originally, I was just going to edit the original but as I was writing, things began to change more than I had intended. Between the addition some new faces to the story and the characterization changes (as well as filling in some of those nasty plot holes), I didn't feel right just editing over. So I'm reuploading. The original will be stored here until I can move it to a Google Docs sheet at which point it will be deleted. I want to thank everyone for their support through writing the first version and I hope that you still enjoy the new version as much as the old. The first four chapters will be going up today, and then will shift to every other Friday.
> 
> I want to thank [LadamaB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladamab) for not only being my proofreader but also ~~kicking me in the ass~~ cheering me on to keep working on chapters. Without her, the rewrite would have been much slower going. As a thank you ~~and because I love him~~ , her character Max does make appearances in the story.
> 
> If you'd like to keep in touch, chat with myself and some other writers, including LadamaB, or just see updates on OMAM, feel free to join my Discord server!   
> https://discord.gg/SVrvqWc

 " _I have accepted what I am and I have forgiven you." The thing that claimed to be his brother had clasped a hand on his shoulder, turning its head to regard him as it passed. "Now you must forgive yourself. The world is changing once again, Hanzo, and it's time to pick a side."_

Hanzo opened his eyes almost with a start, cursing under his breath. His eyes darted, taking in his surroundings quickly. It was still daytime; that alone helped relieve some of his worries. He dragged a hand down his face with a groan. He must have fallen asleep. He was still in the same hot, barren town with the same baked clay building under his worn leather archer's glove as he had been earlier. He pushed himself up, eyes scanning the horizon. The landscape was not one he'd have initially described as pretty, but it had been growing on him in the past week.

Rusty red clay peeked out from under a swaying sea of golden grasses, peppered with sage green underbrush. In the distance, hazy purple mountains reached for a cloudless watercolor-painted blue sky. The sky was the only color this place had in common with his former home. Sand blew down the roads through town that grass and small scrubby bushes had tried to reclaim. He wrinkled his nose. It was not nearly as dusty in Hanamura, nor was it as hot, but this little slice of the world did have its charm, especially for someone not wanting to be found. Were he not with Overwatch now, Hanzo might have even considered hiding in the vast nothingness of the American Southwest. Supposedly, a certain well-known international outlaw did just that. He scoffed at the thought of the man. Imagine, a man dressed as a Hollywood cowboy hiding _anywhere._ It was a pity that same outlaw was a friend of those in Overwatch. He could do a lot with sixty million dollars.

Hanzo himself was on the last day of a hunt for a werewolf attacking nearby towns. Local descriptions had suggested the wolf was a large creature, mottled in color with flecks of graying hair around the black on its muzzle. His fingers went to the graying hairs at his temple. If the werewolf was grizzling, then it was an opponent worth fighting; it had been around long enough to learn how to survive. He liked the sound of that. There was no honor in an enemy that could not even defend itself.

However, his thoughts drifted back to the outlaw... Rumors said that he was still an active hunter, but sightings of him were more sporadic than the beasts they hunted. However, this was near the place his files said he was born. Would the outlaw come home to defend his hometown? Would Hanzo have to compete for his quarry? He snorted and almost wished the man would show; a competition against a man touted to be able to kill a dozen men with half as many bullets would be quite the test. He did briefly wonder how he did it. After all, as far as his files were concerned, the outlaw was only human with no indication of any magical ability and it really didn’t take much to assume that he was far too crude for specialized technology. He hummed quietly, thinking on it. _‘Is he really human though?’_ It wasn’t uncommon for humans to forge deals with demons, perhaps that would explain it.

He shook his head, cutting his thoughts off. He had no reason to linger on a man that could be thousands of miles away, running from police at this very moment. Hanzo had other things to occupy his thoughts with, like his mission. The problem was that there was nothing out here to even indicate the presence of a werewolf. Even the wildlife was deathly silent during the day; he hadn't even heard the trill of a bird in hours. ‘ _Ghost town_ _. Like an old Hollywood movie.’_ He huffed out a sigh as he pulled his water from his side, thankful for his innate resistance to extreme temperature. The building he sat on was sturdy, unlike the others nearby. Most of the other buildings in town were wooden, sunbleached, skeletal remains of what this ghost town had once been. He seriously doubted they would hold his weight when it seemed like a strong wind would topple them. He almost hadn't trusted this one until he'd discovered it was much like concrete, both in sturdiness and reflected heat. This building, and the others like it, seemed to be newer, probably lodging for a tourist trap long since abandoned.

The nightmare that had woken him entered his thoughts again. He stomach churned, and he pressed his knuckles to his mouth as the sour taste of bile bit his tongue, nausea dancing at the back of his throat as if one wrong move would bring his lunch back up. He had picked a side, but at what _cost?_ That thing, that _husk,_ was not his brother. Not _Genji._ He had joined Overwatch as a chance for redemption for what he'd done, but thus far, in the three months that he'd been there, all he'd received were judging stares and hissed whispers that silenced when he drew near. That was why he had agreed to this mission; it was a chance to be alone. It was a reason to get out of Gibraltar and away from the others. They knew who he was, what he'd done, and to them, that thing was still Genji. To them, he was a monster that had killed his brother for power.

Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut. They simply did not understand, but how could they? He was honor-bound to his _giri_ . It did not mean he did not regret that he had to do it. It did not mean that he had not mourned his brother every day since it had happened or that he did not love his brother. He had missed Genji dearly and clung to the memories he had of them. Hanzo heaved a sigh; he was the reason his brother lived a half-life. Neither man, robot, nor dragon. He bowed his head, eyes downcast. No. His brother was dead, and that construct was just a pale imitation. It didn't even act like Genji. It acted like someone who had read about his brother from a file and was doing their best to pretend to be the younger Shimada. He snorted derisively. _‘And failing miserably_ . _’_

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of crunching gravel and heavy footsteps. It was faint, but he could definitely hear them. His brow furrowed and Hanzo lowered back to his belly, pulling Stormbow close with a gentle scrape. He nocked an arrow as he wriggled closer to peer over the edge. A man stood in the streets, looking at a map and scratching his balding head. "Ellen, are you sure this is the right place?" His voice was a tenor, whimpering sound and almost nasally in quality. ‘ _What a terrible voice to be afflicted with_ ,’ Another voice soon joined the man's voice, shouting back with a tired tone in her almost shrill voice. The sound of a mother, far too used to answering silly questions.

 "Yes, dear! They said this was the town where..."

He replaced the arrow in his quiver, shoulders relaxing. Tourists. Not a werewolf or hunters. The longer he listened, the more apparent it became that they were hunting ghosts. How _ridiculous,_ but maybe he'd play along. With his skills, he could easily scare them without being seen. Hanzo rested his head on his arms, closing his eyes and let their voices fade away into indiscernible murmurs. No, as much as he may enjoy it, he had a duty to fulfill; there was no time for silly games. That is what _Genji_ would have done, always shirking duty to do what he wanted. Not Hanzo. Hanzo did his job and he did it well... yet, he could still hear his brother pleading with him to help him prank someone. He grimaced, answering the voice in his head because it was all he had left of his little brother.

_‘No, Sparrow. I can not.’_

The couple lingered in the area, grating on every nerve in the dragon's body. Were it not for the fact that it would alert Talon, not to mention every hunter, bounty chaser, and who knew what else that there was a dragon in the area, he would have shifted. He preferred his dragon form; it was much more comfortable. Dragons were not meant to be contained within such a small vessel for so long. Of course, Genji would have done it anyway, but Hanzo couldn't afford to focus on his comfort-- He had a mission to complete, even if shifting would scare them away from his roost so that they would stop annoying him with pointless chatter. His brow furrowed and his mouth drew into a frown as he considered it for a moment. It would also scare them away from the werewolf... but could also scare the wolf off. _No,_ it was too risky. There was no way that the benefits would outweigh the risks. Overwatch didn't even know that he wasn't human yet and if they found out, he would likely find himself in the same situation as the wolf he hunted. ‘ _Not to mention alerting the clan to my location’._ Hanzo let out an aggravated sigh at his situation. _‘Later. I will find time later.’_ He told himself that every time he had the urge to transform but so far, it had been at least four years since the last time he had. Probably longer if he actually cared to do the math.

Eventually, the couple wandered away, voices fading into nothingness as they headed for the far side of the abandoned town. Hanzo unclenched the jaw he didn’t even realized he had clenched, closing his eyes and shifting to kneel so that he could clear his mind. He let out a long slow breath. He would need to be focused when the sun went down. Even if it was only a werewolf, it was a grizzled one and would be clever-- or at least, he _hoped so._ It was possible that the creature had been turned late in life and was neither clever nor particularly strong. He grimaced; what a disappointment _that_ would be. Hanzo’s eyes opened again. Even if it was a weak wolf, the sooner he put it down, the better for everyone in the area.


	2. Chapter 2

_‘God damn it’s hellacious today.’_ Jesse grimaced as he ducked beneath the awning of a dilapidated general store. The fact that the heat even bothered him was saying quite a lot given that the cowboy was accustomed to these temperatures, but even he had his limits. He took a good look around, smiling as his eye landed on faded and chipped lettering clinging to wood that had turned almost silvery with age. It was haunting, but in a good way. He ran his fingers down one of the wooden posts holding up the roof of the porch, closing his eyes as if he could catch a glimpse of what the town had been in its heyday. He often liked to walk through ghost towns like this one and lose himself in the smell of the town and the way his spurs echoed off the buildings. Sometimes, he could almost pretend he was in one of those old westerns his Ma used to watch. It was nice to pretend sometimes. Out here had a different smell than in the cities. City dust was acrid and musty, like sweat mixed with smog and oil. Out here, it was earthy, but also mildly salty from the sand. He’d known that even before he had become a werewolf, but now he could smell every little difference. Most of the time, it really sucked but occasionally... He took a deep breath, gladly drawing in the smells and- _‘Oh no. Fuck. Nonono-’_

 _ACHOO!_ His sneeze shook him, echoing through the old buildings and leaving him sniffling. He could almost hear Reinhardt's bellowing "Gesundheit!" as it rattled his bones. A small frown tugged at the corner of his mouth, and Jesse pulled his serape tighter around him, ducking his face down in it. The worst part of all of this was that he would never be able to see his friends ever again. At least, not without a target on his back. He occasionally checked his phone, reading messages he'd never answer, but still smiling when one came through. It was nice to know they cared, at least for the old him and pretend that one day he could just stroll right back up to them, tip his hat and flash a winning smile and everything would be alright, but it wasn’t. He was a werewolf. Public enemy number one as far as hunters were concerned. _‘And that’s before we go talkin’ bounties.’_  

He rubbed his nose with the back of one of his fingers, feeling the way his beard scratched at the worn leather of his glove. His mind wandered back to the good ole' days when life was just as simple as point your gun and shoot. ‘ _Then things turned gray.’_ There was always a lot of debate about what the _right_ way was. According to Morrison, it was clean and efficient, get in, take out the monster, get out. No innocent casualties, no questions. Reyes said it was never that simple. After the first several months, Jesse had begun to believe him.

What would they think of him now? Would it be Morrison’s way? Or would they see things the way Reyes had? He shook the thought from his head. Morrison and Reyes were dead; it didn't matter. _‘Morrison and....’_ His expression quickly turned sad and weary, and the coldness of the words sank in, chilling him to the bone even in this heat. _‘Shit, Jefe...why’d ya have t’ go? Could really use some advice right about now...’_ Gritting his teeth, he swore under his breath and shoved a cigar in his mouth, chewing on the end of it mercilessly as he tried to rid his mind of the thoughts.

In the distance, he could hear tourists talking. He wondered if the wolf he was hunting heard them too. He hazarded to move closer to them, walking slowly like Genji always had. Heel, toe, roll into the step. Rinse, lather and repeat. It muffled his spurs, let him get in close to them. They never heard him coming. That probably should have bothered him more.

"I'm telling you, Ellen, I heard something in there!" The man had the voice of a city slicker, probably an accountant or something. He was balding and his belly had gone soft with age. Jesse tilted his head as the man's wife rounded the corner, looking her over. Definitely city slickers, folks around here didn't make a habit of having perfect nails or box blonde hair. She was waving a folded up map at her thin face and honestly looked plumb tuckered out. He glanced up at the sky. It would be getting dark soon, and after that, it would get dangerous around here in a hurry.

He grimaced at the thought. _‘Ain’t no sense in good folks getting hurt.’_ He took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders and stepped out of the building he was in, tipping his hat with his best winning smile. He had to be careful with it being a full moon tonight, but he wasn’t feeling too bad today so all he had to do was hide his canines. "Howdy, there folks, y'all lookin' for somethin' in particular?"

The woman shrieked and fanned herself before looking him over. "O-oh my. Are you a local?"

Jesse flashed a toothy grin, quick to hide his teeth again and put his hands on his hips. "Sure! Grew up not far from here in fact! Can I help y’all with anythin’?"

The man stepped forward, as if he was trying to shield his wife. Part of Jesse wanted to laugh, simply because he knew that this guy couldn’t do shit to him, but the way the man worriedly eyeing him up and down also set Jesse on edge. The other man’s gaze had settled on the six-shooter at his side, "C-Come on Ellen. He's got a gun..."

Jesse's smile dropped, and he looked like a kicked puppy for just a moment. "Aw, Peacekeeper? Naw, she won’t do ya no harm. Jus' fer my own protection.There's all kinds of rough folks out here, ‘n monsters too. After all these years, I ain't lookin' t' lose my other arm."

The woman's eyes went wide, shrill voice raising several octaves, "M-monsters?! George...you've seen the news. We- we should go."

Jesse hadn’t missed that George, or whatever his name was, still hadn’t taken his eyes off of him. Except now George was leaning towards his wife, mumbling from behind gritted teeth, “Doesn’t he look like that guy from the Houston train robbery? He’s even got the thing on his hat...” 

He hid the long-suffering sigh and just rubbed his arm, fidgeting. They knew, so he’d have to get out of Dodge as soon as they were gone. Still, he couldn’t help but feel bad for these poor folks. Just a couple of tourists way out of their element. ‘ _They probably got kids at home ‘n just came out here to see the sights…’_ He held up his hands, stopping George from continuing to point out that Jesse he was indeed a wanted man while reaching for the cell phone in his pocket. "Whoa there, easy now folks." He waved his hands, shaking his head, "I ain’t lookin’ t’ harm nobody, just makin’ sure y’all realize it’s gonna be a full moon tonight ‘n there’s been talk ‘o werewolf attacks." His voice had dropped, gentle and a bit melancholy. “C’mon now, I know y’all just out here t’ see the sights. I don’t want no one t’ get hurt out here. Just here for the werewolf terrorizin’ my hometown.”  
  
The husband eyed him suspiciously, Jesse flashed him a weak smile. _‘C’mon, I know 60 mil is tempting but it ain’t worth your lives. Go home.’_ Finally, after what felt like hours, they backed up and beat a hasty retreat back to their car. It was one of those sleek exotic ones, built more like a rocket than a car with a tan ragtop and as red as a woman’s lipstick. As the engine roared to life and couple disappeared in a cloud of dust, Jesse breathed a sigh of relief. Now they could go back to town, probably call the local authorities on him and he would be off and running again. _‘But at least they’ll be safe. Live to see their grandkids be born or somethin’.’_ Grandkids. There was something he’d never see. He started walking, eyes downcast with his hands shoved in his pockets. He seated himself on the outskirts of town, pulling a worn lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with his thumb. He had time before nightfall to smoke a cigar, and that's exactly what he intended to do. He puffed gently as the flame took to the tobacco, breathing out the thick smoke with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. In his ears, he could hear Angela chiding him for it.

 _"Jesse! What have I told you about those?!" Her bright voice was stern as her hands went to her hips, one eyebrow raised. He could only sheepishly smile as he peeked out from under his Stetson._  

_"Hey, Ange-"_

_Her frown cut his words off. "Put it out before you kill yourself with those. Mein Gott, you're like a child!"_

_He tossed his hands up with a smile, "Alright, alright, y' got it, Ange. I'll try t' cut back."_

_Her face softened as she patted his shoulder, "Thank you, Jesse."_

He watched the horizon, smile fading. His cigar had soured on his tongue, and he stubbed it out beside him, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them tight. Part of him wondered if Angela would help him. It was a thought at least. He sighed. _‘Nah, she don’t need me showin’ up and causin’ her no trouble.’_ He fidgeted, anxiously waiting for night to fall. His spine was starting to get that familiar itch, muscles tensing up. He grimaced, and then let out a shuddery breath. _‘Not yet. Don’t even know if there’s a hunter around.’_ If only he knew...


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Sunset had finally come, but Hanzo found nothing worthy of praise in the cloudless desert sky, at least, not today. Today was an odd shade of gray, caught somewhere between cool and warm and fading into lackluster browns and golds closer to the ground. The silhouettes of the mountains reaching into the sky were the only things that redeemed the landscape at all in his opinion.  Earlier in the week, when clouds had been present, the sky had been much more spectacular but still, in his opinion, they were nothing like the sunsets of Hanamura, where the sky blazed in colors paints could barely hope to match. Even the landscapes reflected back the colors of the heavens as the dying beams of sunlight lit delicate sakura petals like embers. He closed his eyes, a gentle smile creeping to his lips as he pictured the castle bathed in fiery reds and golds. An ache settled in his chest and he opened his eyes again to check his quiver for the third time that hour. Anything to take his mind off the homesick feeling.

As the sun slipped away behind the mountains, the last shreds of daylight clung to the sky, leaving an eerie half-lit world. Unlike most places, the desert was quiet during the day but came alive at night.The screams of coyotes were the worst. At first there had only been one, yapping like a small puppy. Ridiculous, non-threatening and almost cute. Then the others joined in. Dozens, no, it had to be more. At least a hundred possessed hell-beasts waiting in the shadows for him to slip up. It had been enough to send the dragon scrambling for the highest points he could find. Later, he’d been ashamed of it. They were just coyotes, mangy creatures that posed no danger to him. At least, that’s what he told himself when his fire had cast enough light for his night vision to pick out the shapes of dozens of them lurking nearby before he’d gotten to town. 

The dark finally swallowed up the world, and as if on cue, the first note of a night songbird split the nothingness. Crickets soon joined, fiddling out long shrill notes before settling into a rhythmic song of ups and downs. Other various bugs joined in, but finally, the first coyote began its unholy rallying cry and a chill crept up his spine. He shook the thought away with a grimace, _‘Stupid mongrels.’_ They were arguably the only things worse than werewolves. They didn’t matter. They were just wild mutts. What did matter was the hunt and the sneeze he'd heard earlier in the day. He'd assumed it was the tourist’s but now that he thought back on it… _‘That sneeze was too deep to be the tourist’s.’_ He cursed softly. There was someone else here and he had ignored it. Stupid. How very stupid. His eyes flicked about nervously for a moment, checking that he was not the one being hunted.

A low groan of pain rose from several buildings away, bringing his attention back to his hunt. He shouldered his bow quietly. If he was fast enough, he could catch the wolf just after it just finished transforming when it was still dazed from the pain. It wasn't _cheating_ . Cheating was a term coined by losers to make everyone else feel bad for being superior. His eyes flicked to the roof of the building next to his, judging the distance quickly. _‘Ha, child's play.’_ He backed up, then lunged forward in a running leap, rolling to his feet as he reached the next roof.

Hanzo was halfway across town when a telltale howl silenced the creatures nearby. Even the coyotes had ceased their screeching, and honestly, he didn’t blame them. A rare smile crossed his stern features as he jumped to the next roof, Stormbow in his hands already. If he was correct, it should be in this building. It was quiet at first, and then he heard the beast shuffle and snort. He shook his head, amused by the vain attempts to sniff him out. He nocked an arrow, poised at the edge of the building, waiting for it to realize he was outside. _‘Closer now, you mutt. That’s it.’_

Suddenly, there was a faint, gross crunching perforated by agonized cries a few streets over. His head snapped up, _‘Another one?’_ His brow furrowed slightly and his mouth quirked to one side, a troubled look finding its way past his composure. The intel had only mentioned one. He growled, an inhuman sound that rolled like thunder as he pinched the bridge of his nose. _‘Of course the intel was wrong. Why would I expect any less from an overgrown talking baboon?’_

The wolf below him was moving away from him, drawn to the smell of blood and pained groans. For the first time, Hanzo could see that the beast was not the one he was sent to kill. This one was solid black. A young one, or at least, younger than his intended quarry. Pity. He sighed heavily as it disappeared around a corner and shouldered Stormbow. He would be forced to go the long way to follow the beast. If he could at all help it, he wanted to avoid his feet touching the ground.

He was just catching up to the black wolf when the town erupted into screams and growls. His eyebrows raised, half-hoping that one would finish the other off. As he approached the edge of his building, he could see them below him in the street, circling each other. One, the black wolf from before, small and lanky in comparison to his real target.

He watched for a moment, kneeling down to at least get a better idea of what he faced. The mottled one was taller and heavy set with odd patterning and a longer, thinner snout than the black one. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to place where he had seen such markings. It was like no wolf he'd ever seen before.

 _'It does not matter. It still bleeds.'_ Hanzo drew back on his bow, posture straightening as he rose. Just as he was about to fire, the larger one circled back around and they met eyes for a moment. It flashed him an amused look, a _challenge_ to come down and get it as it slipped into the building behind it. He growled, form shimmering for a moment before he gritted his teeth as he switched targets. His tongue ran over his canines, watching the store's entrance and chiding himself for allowing himself to be distracted by a challenge from a flea bag like a werewolf. _'What are you, a child on your first hunt? Get it together.’_ He had just finished aiming on the black one’s skull when it dashed into the building and his arrow landed where it had just been moments prior.

He waited, assuming that the wolves would break into more fighting but that wasn’t the case. Instead, everything had gone deathly silent. He couldn't even hear the wolves moving inside the building. Hanzo tensed, gripping Stormbow more tightly. They weren’t a pack but perhaps they formed an alliance anyway. _'Because that would be just my luck.’_ He leaned forward slightly, eyes searching for signs that they would emerge from the building.

A gunshot split the silence from within the building, then another, startling Hanzo out of his concentration. He barely suppressed the shocked yell as he stumbled backward and onto his ass. Another gunshot. Hanzo found himself frozen as the building suddenly echoed with the sounds of fighting. It wasn't the yelp that got him moving though, it was the very human sounding scream and unintelligible cursing. Hanzo scrambled to his feet, perching at the edge of the roof, ready to drop down and assist the gunman should he need to. He narrowed his eyes as his thoughts returned to the outlaw. What was he doing here? That was _his_ kill. More gunshots rang out, shattering his thoughts. Then there was more scuffling and a fast staccato of repeating shots rang out.

The building had gone silent again. His head tilted, brow furrowing as he searched the building for signs of life. He frowned, unsure if he should be irritated, jealous, or impressed. He had relaxed his draw on his bow, waiting for the man to appear. His blood ran cold when more shuffling and then a scream erupted from the building. Baritone and in agony before the wolves erupted into another fight. Hanzo grit his teeth angrily. His arm trembled from how tight he had pulled the bowstring. Stormbow creaked in protest, but he gave it no mind.

Somehow, the wolves had killed the outlaw and he couldn’t help but be enraged by it. That was _his_ challenge! He could not best the outlaw if he was _dead._ His expression pulled into a snarl as the thumping and growls drew closer. The black one was the first to show, challenging the other one inside with a howl.  Hanzo loosed his first arrow, cutting the howl short in a wet gurgle, then another, and another. By the time his rage had subsided, the wolf was a crumpled heap of blood and flesh; five arrows stuck firmly in its neck and head. His jaw was clenched tight as his chest heaved from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

 "Well, I’ll be damned..." The voice was deep and drawled, gravelly like it hadn't been used in years.

 Hanzo released the tension on the bowstring he hadn't realized he had pulled tight. _‘Werewolves do not talk...do they?’_ Of course not. That would be _silly._ They were feral creatures, given only to instinct but, if this one had been cunning enough to notice him, then he supposed anything was possible. He drew back on his bow again with a snarl. "Show yourself!"

 "N-no can do, darlin'." The beast sounded wounded. "Ain’t feelin’ too hot…" There was an undertone its voice but Hanzo couldn't place it.

 "- someone send ya?" Hanzo jerked back to the present. "Or ya huntin’ by yer lonesome?" Hanzo relaxed his bow to draw a scatter arrow from his quiver carefully. The beast wouldn't have had time to switch back; it must have mastered speech in its wolf form. To the unsuspecting, it even sounded like a pleasant voice. Rough and deep with a drawl typical of the southern states. ‘ _Probably how the beast hunts. Filthy mongrel.’_ He pulled tight on the string, the arrowhead separating. A chime broke the silence. A phone. The beast had a _phone._

"Not now. I'm a lil' tied up." The werewolf groaned, but he could hear it shuffling towards the sound and away from the door. There was a moment of silence before the wolf seemed to realize that Hanzo hadn't yet spoken to him other than to demand he come out of hiding, "Hey!" The shuffling inside stopped, and Hanzo briefly wondered if he could still hit the wolf with a scatter arrow. He had been tempted to use a sonic arrow but that would absolutely ruin his chances of surprising it. "Ya never answered my question!"

 Hanzo's lip curled, disdain dripping from every word, "My _sincerest apologies_. I was unaware that I took orders from gluttonous fleabags."

 There was silence for a moment before the beast exploded. “What the fuck?! I was bein’- Alright wise ass, ya wanna talk shit? Why don’t ya fuckin’ come down here and we’ll settle this the old-fashioned way?”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow, and then dropped to the ground. “Come on then, _mutt._ ” It was only a werewolf after all. There was a grunt, and then the beast moved towards the back. If it thought that he was going in there…  
  
The next sound made him wince. Even if he’d heard it a hundred times before, the sound of crunching bones made him sick, but it also meant that the beast was changing back. He snorted in amusement. It wanted to fight him hand-to-hand. What the hell, he’d humor it. So he waited, and waited, and waited, but even the archer had a limit on his patience. It had been several minutes, the absolutely horrid sounds of agony and bones moving places they didn’t belong had stopped and even the crickets had begun to serenade the night again. His eyes narrowed as finally, there was a long shaky inhale and the beast inside began to move again.The phone had begun to ring again and then there was a thunk and a skittering sound. The phone didn’t continue ringing after that.  
  
Shuffling, jingling, the sound of cloth rustling and leather creaking filled the space between him and the beast before crackling joints and the heavy thud of boots on the rotted wooden floor replaced it. Hanzo tensed as it drew closer, the footsteps accompanied by a sound he’d only heard in movies. _‘Spurs. How... presumptuous_ .’ The smell of smoke struck him first, billowing out from under the awning of the old building dimly lit by the glowing end of a cigarette. With each breath, the end flared bright, bouncing its light off the… brim of a hat? His eyes narrowed at the man in the doorway and then straightened, regarding the _beast_ in the doorway down his nose. Another flare of the cigarette before it was discarded, half-smoked onto the dirt, and the werewolf stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

The face that greeted him was all-too-familiar, and he was sure the recognition showed on his face. Jesse McCree. How ironic that the same man he'd sought to challenge for his kill would be the one that was now squaring up before him. His eyes flicked over the stance, eyes half-lidded as if disinterested. _‘A brawler’s stance. As predictable as he is obnoxious, then.’_ Still, Hanzo didn't dare underestimate the man, nor did he sink into a fighting stance. Not yet. He'd done his homework on any current or former Overwatch member he could access files on, living or dead. He pulled strings where he thought he might be able to, eavesdropped on conversations that might prove fruitful. Of them, he distrusted Angela Zeigler most and he was certain that the feeling was mutual but of all of them still living, Jesse McCree ranked among the most dangerous.

The outlaw was sizing him up, golden eyes searching for what Hanzo would not betray. The fact that the werewolf was Jesse McCree posed a problem. He could not kill this man. They were stuck in a standoff, sizing each other up. Blood was staining the sleeve of McCree’s right arm and his chest, evidence of his fight with the other wolf. His gun was tucked away in his holster, beard, hair and eyes wild. In the distance, something caught Hanzo's eye. Lights. Red and blue and vivid across the flat desert. Police. He considered fighting the man and letting whatever would happen to him after happen. Genji was fond of this man though. His jaw set, a sigh pouring from his nostrils as he made a likely stupid and reckless decision to save the outlaw, even if it was only for the sake of a memory. A ghost that was long gone and yet still persistently haunted him with its presence.  
  
Both options he was considering were unfavorable. Retreat and appear a coward, or overpower the man with magic. He didn’t have time for a drawn out fight. The lights were getting brighter. Hanzo growled, eyes shifting back to the outlaw. Shimadas did not retreat. They were not cowards and he chided himself internally for even _considering_ it an option.  
  
He moved suddenly, hoping to end the fight quickly with a jab to the solar plexus without using magic at all but it seemed McCree had other ideas.  
  
The outlaw’s right arm came down on his, sweeping it away as McCree spun out of Hanzo’s reach. _  
_ _  
_ _‘Troublesome fool.’_ Hanzo ducked away from a blow to the back of his neck, dropping to sweep the outlaw’s feet out from under him but was met only by air as McCree hopped over his legs. If it weren’t so urgent that he knocked the outlaw out quickly, he might have applauded the man. Right now, it only produced a growl of irritation, _‘Just be compliant for once in your miserable life!'_ What was he saying? This fool of a man would not know the meaning of compliance if it struck him in the face! That left teaching the idiot cowboy to Hanzo, of course.

 He shimmered slightly, catching an only momentary look of confusion on McCree’s face before it was gone and the cowboy adapted, bringing his arms up further in a block and started closing the distance.  
  
Hanzo danced out of the surprisingly agile outlaw’s range even as McCree tried to keep them in close quarters, advancing unrelentingly. He surged forward when he was far enough, using magic to slide past the left hook and the spinning kick that should have imbedded a spur in his side.  
  
He hated doing this, hated that he was resorting to cheap, filthy tactics to win a fight that with ample time he likely would have won anyway but it was necessary. He thrust his palm again at McCree’s solar plexus. The man dropped like a rock this time, choking and wheezing. He sprang into action, flipping around to regard the other wolf. He would only have a precious few moments before McCree was on his feet again. Hanzo dashed to hastily snap his required picture for the report, and scribbled runes in the ground, igniting the body in a matter of moments. He didn’t bother seeing it burn down to ash. He didn’t have time for that.  
  
A groan from behind him sent him whirling. McCree was already recovering, struggling to his feet. Hanzo rolled his eyes, stalking up to the outlaw and catching him by the arm. McCree was still winded, weakened and twisting to force him back to his knees was almost pathetically easy. His arm wrapped around McCree’s throat, cutting off his air. The sirens were close enough to hear now and panic seemed to settle into the man. He fought against Hanzo, like a man possessed… _‘Or an animal caught in a trap. Hush, I am not going to harm you.’_ What shallow breaths McCree could get out quickly turned to hyperventilation and he struggled more, frantic and weakening every second until he went limp in Hanzo’s arms.  
  
The archer shouldered his bow with a sigh, scooping the heavy American up, carrying him back to a small alcove tucked away in a crevasse that he’d found on the way here. He watched from the top of the crevasse, eyes scanning the town as searchlights flickered against the flashing red and blue. He slipped back down into the alcove when lights started searching the horizon, checking on the unconscious American. He could just leave the man here, but the fact that he had done this for Genji stopped him. So he composed his report instead, glancing to the man now and again, mouth quirking to one side. Should he mention McCree’s presence?  No, probably for the best that he didn’t.

Hanzo called for pickup shortly before the outlaw began to stir, chuckling at the panicked and then angry cursing that rose up behind him. Perhaps they'd meet again, and he'd be able to settle the fight more fairly but for now he had other concerns, like finding an easier place to be picked up from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins those changes I was talking about. Sassy Hanzo is sassy.


	4. Chapter 4

Jesse woke with a throbbing arm and his head wasn't in much better shape. If he didn't know any better, he'd assume he'd downed a bottle of paint thinner. He groaned, sluggishly stirring until he remembered the sirens, and the hunter that had attacked him. His eyes shot open as he cursed, kicking out in panic until he realized he was alone and still in the desert. His eyes flicked around. No hunter. No cops. He groaned and then finally pushed himself up. There were dogs barking nearby. _‘Of god damn course there’s dogs. Jesus Christ, I’d say give me a break but I don’t think either of us knows what that word means anymore.’_ The cowboy heaved himself up, wincing as his arm shot pain up into his shoulder and chest. That was going to be trouble. He needed to get to a doctor.  
  
He staggered, holding onto his arm as he made his way towards another outcropping, squeezing between some rocks and hoping that it would be far enough that the police gave up the search first. He couldn’t sleep though, not here. He felt like a fox cornered in its den while the hounds bayed around him. Sometimes, he wished he could call his old friends, knowing the resources Overwatch had could at the very least, give him a place to lay his head for longer than a night or two.  
  
Finally, after an excruciatingly long search, the police seemed to give up and headed back towards Santa Fe. He watched the plumes of dust illuminated by headlights finally disappear before he relaxed, or at least, as much as he could. His hand reached for the pocket to check his phone before he frantically patted his pockets down. _‘Shit….SHIT!’_ He rubbed his metal hand down his face because his other one was just about useless now. The police had probably found his phone and now all of his friends were probably in a hell of a lot of trouble. “Sonuvabitch…” ‘Harboring a fugitive’ came to mind. Well that, and the Petras Act forbade any contact between the former members, though he wasn’t sure that _any_ of them actually listened.  
  
He shoved himself back out of his little hiding place and slowly trekked back to the town in hopes that his phone _was_ still there. The smell of burning flesh still hung in the air as he reached the town, making him choke and gag. He’d never get used to that smell. Hundreds of hunts and yet the smell of burning flesh and fur still made him sick. As he neared the building he had left his phone in, the glint of sand turned to glass beneath a pile of ash caught his eye. He sighed as he ducked under the crime scene tape and walked up to it, glancing down at it before spreading the ashes around with his boot. The runes had heated up enough to make perfect imprints in the dirt. The fact that the other hunter had left it bothered him. Reyes would have chewed him a new one for even thinking about it. He frowned and brought the heel of his boot down on them so that they couldn’t be found by some tourist or kid before turning to search for his phone. 

They had, thankfully, left the phone where it was and Jesse frowned as he saw the yellow evidence markers. They were coming back. He needed to go. _Now._ He scooped up the pieces of his phone and ran until his lungs were burning. He choked on the air as he collapsed inside a small gorge, scooting under an overhang. He really ought to consider cutting back on the cigars. Later, when he wasn’t running for his life, the irony of that thought wouldn’t be lost on him.  
  
His hands shook as he reassembled his phone, powering it on. It lit up faithfully, not even a crack in the screen as a soft chime as it reported the voicemail and messages that had been left. His heart ached as he clicked on them, all of them from Lena reminding him that the Recall had gone out and insisting he should come back. _‘I want to, I want to see y’all again, but I can’t. I can’t…’_  
  
He didn’t even make it halfway through Reinhardt’s voicemail before he choked up and had to shut it off. God, what a fucking mess he was. He pulled the serape tight around him with a shiver as the cooler night air set in. If he was lucky, he could get some shut eye tonight without any terrible dreams.  
  
It wasn’t to be though. It seemed like he had just fallen asleep when a familiar nightmare sank its claws into him and held him under. It was the same one as he usually had when his friends reached out to him. He had gone against his instinct and went back, reveling in the welcomes and attention. For as much as he made himself out to be the lone drifter type, he didn't actually enjoy the ‘lone’ part. Everything would be fine, for a month or so, and then shit would hit the fan. The truth always came out one way or another. The dreams were never quite the same but always ended the same way. Sometimes, he was innocent. They found out and everything went to hell. Other times… other times he didn’t blame them. He lost control and they put him down like the rabid dog he was. Those times he usually woke up and puked up whatever cheap fast food meal he had managed to get his hands on without being recognized.

Tonight, he was innocent; Jesse woke up kicking and screaming, fighting against restraints that didn't exist. He stared into the darkness as he gulped air into his lungs until hiccups perforated his sobs. Slowly, he quieted to trembling under his serape and hugging his knees. He’d do anything to make those thoughts disappear. _‘God, just one night. One night of sleep. Please, I’d do anything.’_ God was, unsurprisingly, silent. He didn’t know why he bothered. He hadn't always thought that way. Hell, he'd even been pretty religious in his younger years, but much like a great many other things, his faith had been all but beaten out of him.

He checked his phone and the display burned the time into his vision. 08:04 UTC. Off to the side, another clock reported that the local time was 02:04. Under that, the phone proudly displayed "4 new messages". He shut the case, the ghost of his phone's screen haunting his eyelids as he closed his eyes. He had to stay away from them. It was better that way. For him, for them, for everyone.

Sunrise came no easier to him, the lack of sleep weighing heavy on his wounded body. His wrist was three kinds of purple and swollen five ways to Sunday and the rest of him looked like he'd been hit by a transport truck several times. Honestly? He didn't feel much better either. He groaned as he pulled his glove down to hide his wrist. He didn't need people asking questions. He got enough of those already, and it was dangerous enough showing his face anywhere but he _needed_ to go into town and get someone to look at that arm before he lost it too.

Jesse didn't want to move yet. He'd sworn he'd heard voices in the early morning hours and the beams of spotlights carried far enough that he'd seen a few dance overhead. He settled, instead, on cleaning Peacekeeper with the travel kit he kept on him. It wasn't perfect, but it'd do. The dust out here got into everything, and even though he had never had an issue with the old revolver, he wasn't taking chances. Especially not if that chance cost him his life, or worse, his freedom. His wrist protested rather obnoxiously as he tried to move it but he just gritted his teeth through the pain. If Peacekeeper jammed up on him, he was as good as dead in this state. The process took him a lot longer than usual but he eventually got the job done and replaced the tools in his kit. A quick glance at his phone told him it was still morning, just after oh-10-hundred hours local time. He pushed himself up with his metal arm. After the night he'd had, he wanted nothing more than a drink. The smarter part of his brain told him that drinking in this state was a one way ticket to some form of personal hell, but as was typical, he chose to not listen.

Today felt like a just-barely-higher-than-bottom-shelf kind of day, he decided as he hauled himself up. Hell, he might even get something most folks considered decent. He had made some money ridding the world of some folks that had no place being in it and, after the necessities, he still had a little bit to spare. One day, he told himself, one day he’d hit the high shelf stuff, but that day was not today .Today was a drink-to-forget kind of day. Not quite to the point of paint thinner, he didn’t hate himself enough for that, at least not yet. He supposed he had several more hours to reach that point. The day was still young.

The walk to town wouldn't be pleasant, but it would be uneventful. That alone was a blessing. He was used to walking. There were only so many trains and ever since that incident with the train to Houston; security had gotten a lot tighter. He had water on him, probably not enough according to some, but he'd make do. He always did. He knew some folks in town that wouldn't bother him as long as he paid his tab. A hotel, a couple bars, some residents, though with the police search he wouldn’t go near them. He checked his wallet. Most of his money was in his bank, under a pseudonym, but he always kept a couple hundred on him in cash. It was easier to bribe people to keep their mouth shut when it was right in front of them.

He sighed as he picked out his direction, the layout of the southern United States nearly burned into his memory. He'd survived assassins and hunters alike just knowing what cave system ended up with a neat little escape route or what little alcoves were hidden from view unless you knew where to look. Most hunters underestimated him, expected that he'd be easy to find and the hardest part was not getting shot. Most never knew they had stood only feet from him as he stared at their boots from under the brim of his hat, Peacekeeper at the ready. As he took the first couple steps, he pulled a cigar from where he had them tucked away, right by his flashbangs. He didn't light it, he just needed something to chew on. Something to focus his thoughts on while he walked. It was a long trip back to Santa Fe.

\--- 

He had just started on a bottle when his phone chimed. He groaned, downing a shot. Another chime. "Not now… Jus' let me drink in peace." Several rapid fire chimes. He briefly considered silencing the damn thing. It was probably Lena again, news would have spread by now that he’d been spotted out here. Genji didn't send him many messages these days and he was the only other person that sent him so many messages at once. He took another shot. His phone was ringing now. He let it. It started ringing again. He growled, opening the case to see Genji's face, posing with him, both holding up stupid mock gang signs. He stared at the picture, stunned for a moment and then he sighed, tapping the decline button before setting the phone to silent. He just wanted to drink in peace.

At some point, the alcohol took hold and flushed the pain in his wrist away, or at least made his brain too foggy to notice, and allowed him relax. Every once in a while he'd move his wrist the wrong way and pain would shoot up his arm, sobering his mood for just a moment. The moment would pass and he could settle back into the good memories of years past. The image on his phone reminded him of some of the times back in Overwatch, when life was simpler. Those were good times. Times when they could all take a down moment and even get Morrison teary-eyed and red in the face from laughing. They could forget the fighting and the black and white and gray moments. He leaned on his metal arm, staring at the bottle in front of him, a faraway smile spreading across his face.

"Ey! Joel!" A woman's voice cut through his good mood.  
  
His head snapped up a snarl. He hated being called Joel. It was a name that left a bitter taste on his tongue and sent fire through his veins. The leader of Deadlock had taken to calling him Joel because he couldn't be bothered to remember the name 'Jesse'. "Look, I don' know who-" He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes fell on the sometimes-useful thorn in his side. "Shit. Ollie? I- What are ya--"

She leaned forward, flicking his nose, causing him to wrinkle it. "Pendejo, you should really answer your phone. Then you wouldn't ask me stupid questions all the time."

His mouth hung open for a moment before looking down at his phone.

"You are hopeless. Give me that."

He protested as she snatched the phone from the table, but in his partially drunken state, he couldn't do much about it. She hopped out of reach and flicked open the case, pressing the power button in a swift movement. Even she seemed dumbstruck at what popped up as she stared at the screen.

"19 new messages and 4 missed calls?!" He could see her eyebrows raise before her eyes flickered back to him.

McCree frowned, taking advantage of her momentary distraction to stand and snatch his phone away. "Hey now! Those are all since I got t' the bar. What in fresh hell's--"

 

She groaned loudly, "Oh please don't start with that. You're more cringe-worthy than that time I found that clip of Jack trying to hit on Gabe after he'd had one too many Mai Tais." She shuddered visibly. "There is not enough eye-bleach in the world to erase what I saw."

His mouth clamped shut, twisting into a look of disgust. "I didn't need that mental image in my head today. Reyes was like my dad. My _dad_ , Ollie." He slumped back into his seat, making the chair rock a little more than he'd have liked. He grunted when it settled, eyeing the bottle hard.

Sombra laughed as she waved him off. "You'll be fine. I mean, you did walk in on--"

His eyes went wide, and he scrambled from his seat, wobbling a bit as he tried to keep the rest of the sentence from escaping, sputtering. ”Jesus Christ Ollie--"

She cackled as she danced out of reach, “You’re blushing, Jess. It’s cute. Though, come to think of it, that might be the whiskey.” She wrinkled her nose, “You should consider a shower.” Her eyes flicked to his arm.  
  
He subconsciously pulled on the glove.  
  
“And a doctor. What _did_ you do to your arm?”

  
“The usual.” He grumbled.  
  
“You utter dumbass.”

He blinked as she stepped forward, tossing her arms around him and whispering in his ear. “By the way, you should probably check some of those messages. There’s a very angry Sparrow halfway around the world.” And then she stepped back, patting his shoulder with one hand and then straightening her jacket. "Anyways, I should get going… Adios." She wiggled her fingers at him, disappearing in a shimmer of purple.

McCree stared at the space where Sombra had been standing, wrinkling his nose before slumping back into his seat. He'd look at the messages later; he was too drunk to deal with it right now. He needed find a place to stay for the night and-- Wait. He patted down the pocket he kept his wallet in. _‘What the-’_ He found it in the wrong pocket and suspiciously eyed the door. Sure enough, when he flipped it open, the cash was gone. "Damn it Ollie, next time I see ya, we're havin' _words."_ He flicked out a card to pay for his bottle and took his leave. At least she had had the decency to take the cash and not his cards.

His steps were steady enough that he could make it to one of his usual haunts in Santa Fe. He tipped his Stetson at the lady behind the front desk, smiling broadly as he worked to keep the bottle and injured arm under his serape. He didn't like his metal arm, but it was a lot less attention grabbing that a bottle of whiskey and an arm that looked like he'd been trying to wrestle barbed wire. She gave him a suspicious look. Her hand had inched towards the phone the second he walked in and he held up a hand, "I know what yer thinkin' but I'm jus’ lookin' for a place to lay my head for the night. Is Mama Tracy here? She can vouch I won't cause no trouble."

She blinked, narrowed her eyes at him before calling over her shoulder. "Trace? Got a guy here asking for you!" She frowned, muttering under her breath, “Someone who oughta not be here.”

Jesse ignored that, like he did most comments about ‘where he ought to be.’ Folks got pretty opinionated on that subject and he’d heard the lot of them. Instead, he focused on the grumbling and cursing as someone shuffled around in the back room.

"Who in blue blazes would be askin' for me at this hour? Tell them to pay up or get out! I'm tired and my hip's hurtin' me!"

Old Mama Tracy was one of the orneriest ladies Jesse had ever met, but she was a good woman, and he gave her hotel his business whenever he was in town. "Aw Mama, didja kick someone out too hard?" He called back, winking and flashed a grin at the woman behind the desk, who stifled a giggle despite herself. He had learned years ago that you didn't pity or sympathize with Mama Tracy. Those kinds of sentiments were fighting words and he'd gotten a good punch out of the woman once or twice before he learned.

"Jes? Is that your ridiculous voice I hear out there?" A tiny woman in her sixties shuffled into view, leaning heavily on a cane. If she were five foot, Jesse would have been surprised. Her hair was cropped short, and she had scowl lines permanently etched into her face. Mama Tracy was meaner than sin but she was good to him, and come to treat him like the wayward son she had never wanted.

"What are you doin' in my hotel at this hour?! Did your mama not teach you manners boy or did you lose them at the bottom of that bottle you're holdin'?"

Jesse dipped his head like a scolded child as he tugged on his serape, trying to hide the bottle more, "It's been a rough day, ma'am. I'm sorry for disturbin' ya, was just in town an' y'know I don't lay my head anywhere else in Santa Fe."

"If I found out you did, I'd kick your ass the next time you showed your face in here." Her eyes looked him over for a moment before the woman's expression softened, and she clucked her tongue and sighed, her tone weary. "Lord Almighty, Jes. You look like a train hit you and instead of goin' to the doctor like a sensible person, you tried to cure it with bourbon."

Jesse chuckled, "Well you've always said I was a trainwreck--"

"And you've yet to prove me wrong. Get that boy a room Shelley, and if anyone comes askin' about him, he ain’t here. You press that button there, and I'll come talk to them."

She looked up at Jesse, eyes raking over him before her nose twisted. "And you." Her disdainful tone brought his head up in a second. "Take a shower boy; I can smell the bar on you from here."

"Yes, ma'am!" He tipped his hat and grinned.

"You cut that out, you know I only put up with your shit cause you're a good kid with a fair amount of money in your pocket."

Jesse grinned even wider than before, just to annoy her. "Awww, Mama! Y' do care!"

She sputtered for a moment, and waved him off and shuffled back into the other room, "Git outta my sight boy, before I change my mind and toss your drunk ass out on the street.”  
  
"I love ya too, Mama!" He called after her, laughing at the string of curses that erupted from the back.

Shelley stifled a snicker at the two before pushing a room key at him. "Here, since you're one of Tracy's favorites."

Jesse tipped his hat with a sincere smile. "Thank y' kindly, Miss."

"Shelley. I'm sorry that I…” She trailed off, gestured at all of him and shrugged with a sheepish grin.

"No hard feelin’s ma’am. I'm kinda used to it." He shrugged, producing his card, the one calling him ‘William Thomas Jr.’. "Normally I'd have cash but--"

"Well if you didn' spend it all on that devil's water you're prone to drinking, you might have a little more, boy!" Tracy's voice rang out from the back, cutting him off.

Jesse chuckled. "Naw, this time it's cause my lil' sister borrowed money!"

"Well, aren't you the good samaritan?" She poked her head out. "Give him that room for half price, Shelley."

Jesse sputtered at her, shaking his head. "Now hold up there! Ya ain't gotta do that ma'am; I got the money!"

Tracy smiled a rare smile at him, "I know ya do boy, but I also know in the seven years you've been comin' here, you've never caused a fuss or left a mess in the room you're given, and you have the decency to smoke those cancer sticks outside. Sometimes you even make the bed before you leave."

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck and covering his face with his Stetson. "Thank ya, ma'am. What would I do without ya?" His wrist complained as he moved it and he barely hid the grimace.

"Probably die. Oh and Jess?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Get that wrist looked at before you lose your other arm."

"Yes ma'am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jess. He just can't catch a break. If it's not police or monsters or sassy archers, it's something else.


	5. Chapter 5

Hanzo did not at all enjoy his trip back to Gibraltar. It wasn't terrible to begin with, but became increasingly worse as soon as he realized he would not be spending it alone. As soon as the two other hunters stepped foot onto the carrier, any hope that Hanzo had of a peaceful trip back disappeared. The first hunter had been Hana Song. Though young, she was already one of the most accomplished summoners in the world and Hanzo was, admittedly, curious to see her skill on the battlefield. The second had been Lucio, the siren that had made it big as a singer after leading a revolution against Vishkar. By themselves, the two didn’t bother him. Hana was occasionally loud and abrasive, but she didn’t interact with him much. The games she played didn't even bother him as much as he pretended they did. They just reminded him too much of Genji. Lucio played music wherever he went and was similarly loud, but Hanzo could handle him in small doses. Together, they were impossible though. Hana's games bringing up intrusive, unwanted thoughts and Lucio's music combined with the two of them noisily talking about whatever game Hana was playing. It was too much for such a small space.  
  
He didn’t see Lucio look up and watch him for a time and then lean over to his equipment, turning it on and up. Not until a few notes kept sinking into his thoughts, not interrupting them but lingering. He looked up to see the siren grinning at him. Why? What was he up to? Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.   
  
“You looked like you could use some chill beats, man. You’ve been all tense since me and Hana got here.”   
  
_‘Have you considered your presence as the issue?’_ “I am fine.” 

“Uh huh.” Hana snorted, causing Hanzo to purse his lips at her.  
  
Lucio looked between them for a moment before changing the subject, “You know, there was some breaking news earlier, they said Jesse McCree was seen around Santa Fe. That’s where you were right? Did you see him?!”   
  
“No, I didn’t. Nor do I care to, frankly.”

Lucio sighed at him but didn't pester him further, a fact that he was thankful for.

“How he manages to dodge the law dressed like that is really...I don’t know if I’m impressed that he can or embarrassed for everyone hunting him.” Hana chimed in, not looking up from her handheld.  
  
“Well I mean, wasn’t he in that secret part of Overwatch or whatever? It’s not that weird.”   
  
“So was Genji and _everyone_ can find him! He glows and honestly, he's more power ranger than ninja, no matter what he says.”

Hanzo tuned out the rest of the conversation since it was mostly about the imposter pretending to be his brother and he had no need to take part in it. He had more important things to deal with, like trying to meditate, or going over his report, or reading. However, his thoughts strayed to the cowboy and not any of the aforementioned 'more important things.’ McCree was obviously hiding, and that was to be expected, given that he was wanted internationally for a great many crimes. The fact that he was hiding from his 'friends’ likely meant that he didn’t trust them, not that Hanzo blamed him.

His thoughts shifted to the report he’d written in the desert. Should he really leave McCree out? He could just tell the truth, except that he'd already lied and said he _hadn't_ seen the cowboy. Granted, that was to get out of the inevitably awkward explanation that their first meeting had turned into him knocking the cowboy out via asphyxiation, but that was besides the point. They didn’t need to know about that. He powered on his comm, looking up the breaking news article. Two tourists had reported seeing the man in the general vicinity of Santa Fe, though other articles specified the ghost town he’d been in and reported the rune circle. That could be a problem. 

He finally decided that the easiest method would just report the mission as he’d written it, boring and plain and easy. The tourists, the crickets, coyotes and songbirds, and the single black wolf. He’d just report that and nothing more. No sight of the mottled wolf, though if asked, he might deflect that it was possible that Jesse McCree had taken down _that_ wolf, given that he had been seen in the area and the two just missed each other.

  
The carrier shuddered and he dragged himself from his thoughts to look around. Hana and Lucio were already rushing out the hatch, salt-laden air shoving out the recycled and mostly stale air within the cabin. He gathered his things in silence, ignoring the cyborg standing just outside. Perhaps it would leave if he did not acknowledge it. Finally though, he couldn’t pretend to pack up his travel gear any longer and stepped outside. “What do you want,” he snapped.   
  
"I just wanted to welcome you home, Hanzo." It whined in a tone all too familiar.   
  
Hanzo sighed, cursing himself and murmuring an apology. A leftover ingrained response from when he _wasn’t_ a terrible, fratricidal monster. What was he doing? No! That _thing_ was not Genji! No matter how much it may try. It was _not_ Genji. And yet, he still uttered the name past his gritted teeth, "I am tired, Genji. I need to file this report with Winston so that I can go to sleep." He could hear the sigh as it filtered through the visor before the cyborg leaned forward as if getting closer would reveal the answer. It was getting so hard to remind himself that this thing wasn’t his little brother.

"How did it go? Did you kill the werewolf?"

Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Yes and no. There was a werewolf, but not the one in the report."

The cyborg was silent for a moment before it tilted its head, watching him. “Did someone get hurt, Hanzo? You’re doing that thing where you pretend everything is totally fine but you’re not fooling me…”

  
“No. No one was hurt. I am just-- It is just the jet lag. I’m tired and I need to deliver this report. Please, excuse me.” He brushed past the cyborg, trying to get away from it.   
  
The walk down the halls to Winston's lab was a quiet one at least. The other members had thankfully given him a wide berth. Even Tracer and Dr. Zeigler, who had been idly chatting as they made their way down the hall had quieted and moved aside as he passed. Afterwards, he could hear the hushed whispers. He knew that he had become the topic of their discussion. It made no difference to him. They would speak ill of him no matter what. Why bother defending himself, after all, the words were true anyway.   
  
He reached the lab not too long after passing Tracer and Dr. Zeigler, taking a deep breath and knocking. So far, Winston hadn't been rude or judgemental of him, and despite Hanzo feeling that he wasn't the most apt leader, he also felt no need to treat the scientist as he might the others.

“Come in! The door is unlocked!”

Hanzo pressed his hand to the scanner outside, one of only a few doors in the base with such scanners. The rest just required a numerical passcode. The door slid open after a small beep and he entered, watching Winston shuffle about.

“Oh! Hello, Hanzo. I'll be right there.”

Hanzo's eyes flicked over the scattered bits of disemboweled technology and papers alongside peanut butter lids and containers.

“What can I do for you?”

Hanzo looked back to the scientist, “I came to debrief.”

“Ah. How did it go?”

“I was able to slay a wolf but it was black, not mottled. Otherwise, normal as I detailed in the written report I sent to you.”

“Yes, I saw it. Are you sure that the other wolf was not in the area?”

“I'm not, actually. It wasn't where it was reported to be seen, but the black one was.”

“Was there anyone else in the area?”

“To my knowledge, only the tourists I mentioned.”

“Alright then, thank you. I'll let you know if anything comes up, but in the meantime, get some rest. You look tired.”

Hanzo nodded, bowing his head slightly as he exited the lab. He didn't really like lying, but part of him believed that it was for the best. McCree didn't seem like the type of man to harm innocents. He had been a member of Overwatch after all. Hanzo hoped he wouldn't regret giving the man the benefit of the doubt. 

The cyborg was waiting for him outside his door. He sighed, “Is there something you need?”

“No, but I saw that Jesse was in the area…”

“I did not see him, I'm sorry.”

“Oh…” Genji sighed, rubbed a hand on his neck and then looked back up. “What would you have done if you did?”

“Probably ignore him.” Not a total lie. If the cowboy hadn't turned out to be a werewolf, Hanzo likely would not have even interacted with him at all. Okay, maybe once to test the cowboy's marksmanship but otherwise...

Genji was quiet for a moment and then laughed, “I don't know what I was expecting you to say but somehow, I'm not surprised. Sleep well, Hanzo.”

Hanzo was silent as the cyborg walked away, watching him for a moment before turning to enter his room. He needed sleep, a shower and possibly more sake than he'd admit to anyone that asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm getting chapters rewritten fairly quickly so as long as I don't cut into my buffer chapters, you guys get to benefit from any surplus chapters over that buffer <3


	6. Chapter 6

 

> >Hola amigo!  
>  recieved 05:38 CEST (+2 GMT)   
>    
>    
>  Who is this? How did you end up with my number?   
>  sent 06:02 CEST (+2 GMT)   
>    
>    
>  >Relax. I'm a friend of the cowboy   
>  recieved 06:05 CEST (+2 GMT)   
>    
>    
>  Jesse?   
>  sent 06:05 CEST (+2 GMT)   
>    
>    
>  >Yeah, him. That pendejo is holed up in Santa Fe   
>  >He's been drinking himself silly   
>  >Again   
> Recieved 06:06 CEST (+2 GMT)

 

Genji stared at the messages on his phone, trying to process the information and hitting roadblocks. First, his brother and now someone had gotten his private phone number, just to tell him Jesse McCree drinking in Santa Fe. Big surprise there. Well, okay, the fact that he was still in Santa Fe with a manhunt underway was really odd.

He flicked to the messages between them. The last message he had received from Jesse was, 'Fancy a drink downtown? I'm buyin.' Genji didn't look at the time stamp. The messages following Jesse's last ranged from sadness to anger and finally just turned into birthday and holiday wishes. Jesse had read every one but never replied. Genji sighed and tapped out a tentative message. 

 

>   
>  Jesse?   
>  Sent 6:06 am CEST (GMT+2)   
>  Jesse are you there?   
>  Sent 6:07 am CEST (GMT+2)   
>  We all miss you   
>  Sent 6:08 am CEST (GMT+2)   
> 

Genji waited, hoping that Jesse would respond or at least read the messages, but to no avail. Several minutes passed before he put his phone back down. _'Drinking himself silly again…’_ He had never known Jesse to have particularly good tastes in liquor, and he doubted he had the money to pay for anything good anyway, which meant that he was probably drinking whatever would get him the drunkest in the least amount of time. He clenched his jaw before picking the phone up again.

 

>   
>  Jesse, I know you're in Santa Fe!   
>  Don't make me come out there just to kick your ass   
>  I will!   
>  Sent 6:11 am CEST (GMT+2)   
> 

The cowboy still didn't respond. _‘Damn it, McCree!’_ He stared at his phone before pressing the familiar speed dial number. The phone rang several times. No answer. He hit end call before the voicemail started.

 _'Come on Jesse...just pick up.’_ He called again, this time the phone rang, and then he heard the familiar drawl of McCree's voicemail as Jesse ignored the call. He seethed and waited for the beep. "Jesse, it's Genji. If you don't answer your damn phone, I am coming straight from Gibraltar to shove my foot so far up your stupid ass; your great grandchildren will be half-Japanese."

He sucked in a breath, about to continue when Lena zipped to his side, startling him. He had forgotten that he and the others had converged here rather than the cafeteria for breakfast seeing as there were so few of them.

“What's wrong, love?"

He blinked and stared up  at her, reining his emotions back in before looking down and realizing he hadn't hit end. He flushed for a moment and quickly pressed the end call button before showing her the strange messages. "Someone knows where Jesse is. Like exactly where he is. Some bar in Santa Fe.” Hana's bubblegum popped in the heavy silence that followed the words. If everyone hadn't been looking at him before, they definitely were now. Genji rubbed the back of his neck, though the purpose of the gesture was lost. "But the idiot won't answer his phone."

  
"He never does..." Reinhardt sighed, leaning on the table where he and Angela were seated.

“He's right, love." Lena put her hand on his shoulder. "Occasionally I'll look back, and the message will show that he read it several hours or days later." She shook her head, her normal cheery expression crestfallen. "But no one's heard from him since he left."

  
Genji threw his hands up. "Doesn't that seem...odd to anyone? For Jesse? Especially since he's still in Santa Fe, even though police are aware that he's there? That's not like him.”

“It isn't, but what can we do?” Angela had been wringing a napkin in her hands and looked down, “Perhaps he is worried that things will go as well as last time. Blackwatch was not easy on him, you know that Genji. Especially the last few years before he left, between Gerard and Amelie, the UN…”

“I know but…” Genji slumped down, “I wish he'd let us help him. He didn't even say goodbye last time.”  
  
Hana looked thoughtful for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "So, he up and left without talking to anyone and you guys are surprised that he still won't with a sixty million dollar bounty on his head? He's probably worried about you guys getting involved."

Genji slammed his hand down, "He should let us help him!" He flinched back when Hana Song did, frowning, “I'm sorry Ms. Song, I did not mean to shout."

The grip on his shoulder tightened reassuringly as if Lena knew the turmoil that was boiling under that apathetic looking visor and cold metal body. "What Genji means is, Jesse wasn't like that. Sure, usually, no one was surprised when he didn't come to breakfast, he always slept in but..." She stopped, looking away as she blinked away a few tears, "Everyone just knew that morning that he was gone. The base just...felt empty." Everyone nodded in agreement. 

  
Hana's mouth quirked, somewhat amused, "I bet you guys don't believe a word the news says."

Angela looked up from the napkin she had twisted into shreds. "Absolutely not! Jesse didn't have a spotless record but, he certainly wouldn't go around robbing banks and trains! He hated harming innocent lives on either side, human or otherwise. In fact, he and Jack Morrison were at constant odds about it.” She paused, as if it had been on her mind for some time. “For him to leave without a word and have not spoken to us since then, I can only guess that there was something incredibly wrong and that he was hiding it. Jesse was never serious about anything. He smiled through everything which, looking back,” Her eyes cast down as she mumbled, “I should have noticed before everything happened.”   
  
Genji cast a glance at Hana and Lucio, who had both sunk in their chairs. The look on their faces was not one that Jesse would have liked to see if he knew someone had asked about him. No, Jesse wanted people to laugh. He had once told him that he'd rather people laugh at his expense than being upset at all. Genji straightened up, "And he wouldn't want us moping." The others looked up as Genji stood. "Ms. Song asked us who Jesse was, and we're sitting here acting like he’s dead.  If someone asked Jesse about us, you know what the first thing he'd do is?"   
  
Angela giggled, "Make his best impression of us and then tell the most embarrassing stories."

Lena snorted and leaned to look at Hana. "His impressions were terrible and his stories were worse."

Genji laughed and nodded. "Remember when Ms. Amari caught him cheating at poker?"

Reinhardt bellowed with laughter, “Yes, yes! She chased him across the base, threatening him with a double dose of sleep darts!"

Angela covered her mouth to keep from laughing at the memory.

"And all you could hear was him yelling and the sound of spurs,” Genji waved his hands enthusiastically, imitating the cowboy, “Whoa hey ma'am! Those weren't mine! Genji framed me! C'mon now, I've been framed!”

Angela giggled, shaking her head, “No one could outrun Ana Amari’s shots. Not even Jesse McCree.”

Genji snorted, “He almost broke his neck from how hard he dropped. It was a good thing I was out of sight because she heard me laughing and swore if she caught me, I was next. I guess she believed him but shot him on principle. Jesse was out for three days."

Angela nodded, “And I had to take care of him during it. He wasn't happy when he woke up and discovered that _someone_ had trimmed that mess he called a beard.” She snickered, “I was tired of looking at it.”

Lena snorted, “He wasn't _that_ mad. If I remember correctly, he wore it like that for like a year or two.”

“Until they came out with that new western and he was convinced he could pull off that one guy's look.” Genji pointed out.

Lucio choked on his soda. “How do you take this guy seriously?”

"You don't." Genji swiped his phone off of the table where he'd left it. He thumbed through some pictures before resting on a picture of them when they were younger. He had knocked Jesse's hat off from behind and snapped a selfie. Jesse had been halfway through a cursed protest, and the mixture of shock and outrage was painted perfectly on his face. “Rule number one: Don't mess with his hat.”

It seemed the others came to the same realization because all of them had pulled out their phones to show the two new recruits. Everyone soon piled on the couch, most of them sitting on Reinhardt. Lena had a picture of Jesse grinning, a cigar sticking out of his mouth and his thumbs hooked in his jeans on either side of the gaudy gold belt buckle he had just bought. Hana raised an eyebrow at the picture nearly choking.

"BAMF? Really?! Oh my god.” She buried her face in her hands, “I'm embarrassed _for him_.”

Genji shrugged, “I wish I could say he didn't earn it but he's the only person I know that can kill eleven people with six _normal_ bullets.”

“How? That's impossible. Does he--” Hana started, brows furrowing as she counted how that was possible on her hands, “Is it magic?”

“No one knows.” Angela giggled as she swiped through her pictures, “I believe I have a picture of him on my phone as well. Hmmm, ah!" She faced her phone towards everyone else. Jesse was laughing. He had his hat on his chest and his head thrown back while Reyes was little more than a blur. In the corner, there was a suspicious green shape. Genji couldn't restrain the laughter that erupted from him as he remembered Reyes chasing after him, shouting obscenities in Spanish he was sure would make a sailor blush.

"Reyes almost killed me that day!" He leaned towards the Hana and Lucio, stage whispering, “He was too slow.”

Angela gave him a look, "Well, you would have deserved it. Of all the things to do to Gabriel, you two decided to _replace his coffee_."

Genji put his hand to his chest, feigning hurt, "Who me? I was innocent! Besides, it was Jesse's idea. _You're_ the one with the picture!"

She stammered a second before collecting herself. "Yes well. I thought I should catalog causes of death, seeing as I am Overwatch's head of medicine." 

"Ouch. I think you'll need to catalog _that_ as a cause of death,” Hana snorted.

Genji whimpered pitifully and slumped over, “Traitors!  All of you!”

Lena rolled her eyes, shoving him playfully, "Please… Jesse didn't have to say a word, and you were all ears. You two were worse than Ms. Amari and Rein."

“Lena, I resent that comment. Jesse and I didn't prank as much as you guys think. It was those two, and we got blamed."

It was Reinhardt's turn to feign innocence. "Ms. Oxton! Mr. Shimada! I am _wounded_ by the fact that you would even suggest that I am anything but an honorable, upstanding citizen!"

Every head in the room turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "What? It is true!”

Genji tilted his head slightly, expression incredulous behind the visor. "Says the man that helped Ms. Amari replace Morrison's and Reyes’ shampoo with temporary hair dye and then blamed it on Jesse and I. We had to take a mission to kill a chupacabra to get away from those two! And the chupacabra trying to rip our faces off was more pleasant!"

Angela was suddenly gasping for breath as she doubled over in laughter. "I just remembered Jack with pink hair. Pity I never got a picture of that."

Lena's hand shot up, waving. "Ooh! I got you covered!" She flicked through her gallery before pulling up an obviously candid picture of Commander Morrison, square jaw set as he glared at Genji and Jesse. Next to him, Reyes had his cap pulled down further to hide the almost cyan blue that peeked out.

Reinhardt looked down at the picture on his phone, chuckling. "Ah, yes. It was a good joke. Mostly Ms. Amari's doing, though. I just distracted them." His voice was far away and distracted as he stared at the image. It showed him, Ana, Jesse, Lena, and Genji. Reinhardt was kneeling, on hand on Genji's shoulder. His other arm was wrapped around Ana's waist. Lena was perched on his shoulder while Jesse had been pulled off balance into a hug by Ana. His hat was caught mid flutter to the ground and Ana was ruffling his hair while his mouth was wide open in protest.

Lena looked down at her phone, "You know, it's easy to forget what it was like before Jesse came along. He kind of just wormed his way in until everyone forgot that he hadn't always been there and that's why it doesn't feel right that he's not here." Her words were cut short by the chime of Genji's phone and all eyes turned to look at him. Lena's eyes went wide and Angela sucked in a breath. Under him, he felt Reinhardt tense. "Is it him love?" Genji scrambled to open the message, fingers fumbling.

 

 

>   
>  >Looks like he got beat up too but whatever it was, it wasn't human   
> Received 06:41 CEST (GMT+2)

  
Genji's heart sank as he read the messages. "It’s not him." He could feel the room deflate, bated breaths coming out as heavy sighs. "This unspecified number texted me earlier, said he's in a bar in Santa Fe... but now they're saying he's hurt." The room tensed again.

 

>   
>    
>    
>  >His arm looks like he stuck it in a meat grinder, he kept trying to hide it but something got him   
>  >And its not his bad one   
> Received 06:42 CEST (GMT+2)

  
  
The news hit him like a punch to the gut. Jesse had a bad arm? When did that happen? What happened to him? Why hadn't he said something? 

 

>   
>    
>  Jesse has a bad arm?!  
>  Sent 06:45 CEST (GMT+2)  
> 
> 
>   
>  >Ay dios mio   
>  Received 06:45 CEST (GMT+2)   
> 
> 
>   
>  What?   
>  Sent 06:46 CEST (GMT+2)   
>    
>    
>  >You must be kidding   
>  > He didn't tell you?   
>  Recieved 06:48 CEST (GMT+2)   
> 
> 
>   
>  No??   
>  Sent 06:48 CEST (GMT+2)   
>  Tell me what?   
>  What happened?   
>  Sent 06:49 CEST (GMT+2)   
>  What   
>  happened   
>  What did you do to Jesse?!   
>  Sent 06:55 CEST (GMT+2)   
>    
>  > Relájate! I'm innocent   
>  Received 06:55 CEST (GMT+2)   
>    
>    
>  >As for what happened   
> Received 06:55 CEST (GMT+2)
> 
>   
>    
>  You had better tell me   
>  or I will hunt you down   
>  and make you regret everything you have ever done   
>  Sent 06:56 CEST (GMT+2)   
>    
>    
>  > Hey! I'm innocent. Jess is a friend of mine, remember?   
>  >I'm just tired of seeing him act like this   
>  >He's no fun when he's drunk and mopey   
> Received 06:58 CEST (GMT+2)

  
  
The room watched him as he grew more and more agitated with each passing minute. He hopped down from Reinhardt's lap, a mumbled apology to the older man when Reinhardt grunted.

"What's wrong love? What happened? Is Jesse okay?" Lena's cheerful demeanor had faded and she zipped to his side to try to read the messages.

Genji tilted the screen towards her, voicing to the rest his agitation. "Our 'generous informant' also provided that Jesse is not only injured but has a bad arm that was injured prior, but they won't specify what happened to him. Only that he looks like he got attacked by something not human."

Lena sucked in a shaky breath. "Oh Jesse...what happened to you?" The room went silent again, heavy and still. As if no one could picture bright, happy Jesse McCree hiding from them in a bar, drinking away whatever had happened to him since he left. The chime broke the silence and once again, all eyes were on him.

 

>   
>  > Ask your brother what happened to Jesse McCree ;)   
> Received 07:05 CEST (GMT+2)
> 
>  

Genji stared at the message and then sighed and shook his head. No wonder Hanzo had been acting strange. Well, more so than usual. He could feel the confusion in the stares as he started to pace and mumble to himself.

Angela leaned around Reinhardt to look at him. “What does it say?”

“That my brother knows something about Jesse.”

“He said he didn't see him.” Lucio mumbled as if questioning it himself.

Genji snorted, “He says a lot of things.”

Angela rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath but then her brows furrowed as she suddenly seemed to realize something, “Why would he need to lie? If he saw Jesse and didn't go for the bounty, why hide that he'd seen him at all?

“I don't know. It doesn't make any sense, but I'm going to find out.” Genji turned on his heel. “And then I am personally going to Santa Fe to drag one incredibly _stupid_ cowboy back home...after I kick his ass.”

“Let me know when you intend to leave,” Lena chirped, “You’ll need a pilot.”

“If he’s injured, I should go as well,” Angela sighed wearily.

“Why don’t we all go?” Reinhardt laughed, “We all want to see him.”

The others nodded and Genji laughed, “Okay, okay. We’ll all go as soon as I find out what Hanzo was hiding.”

“Maybe they’re secret lovers…” Hana said as she wiggled her eyebrows and then snorting as if she didn't even believe that.

“As if. Have you _met_ my brother?” Genji shook his head, “There's no way Jesse is his type. He's too loud…” He paused for a moment, “I don't even know if my brother is into dating.” He shrugged, “Anyways, I'm going to go talk to him.”

“Good luck, man. Hate to say it but I think you're gonna need it.” Lucio held up his fist for Genji to bump as the cyborg passed.

Genji bumped fists with the siren and then sighed, deflating some as he headed out of the room, “Yeah… me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! This one is very similar to the old version, but I tried to make the interactions seem more genuine and less rushed, having gotten a better feel for the characters since I first wrote this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

Hanzo was thankful that the jet lag had been in his favor this time. His odd sleeping habits and total exhaustion from the mission in New Mexico had allowed him to fall asleep quickly, and resume a somewhat normal sleep schedule. He was awake a little earlier than normal but nothing that he couldn't fix. He had made his way down to the cafeteria long before anyone else would even consider wandering down there, made breakfast and now was meditating before he went to train for the morning. With any luck, he wouldn't see anyone until at least the afternoon.  
  
He took a deep breath, holding it for a few moments before he released it. He had chosen sandalwood this time. The earthy smell reminded him of a forest near Hanamura that he and Genji would play in as children. He breathed in, focusing on it as the air filled his lungs and he held it before breathing out again. His thoughts found their way to his brother again, even if he didn't want them there. Genji was laughing as he ran toward the arcade, Hanzo following behind. Shoulders back, chin up. Genji used to call it his 'dragon walk.' Genji was playing the new game; face screwed up in concentration while Hanzo stood stiffly nearby, watching from the corner of his eye while focusing on the people nearby. What if an assassin came for them? He shook the thoughts from his mind. He was focusing on the wrong things. ‘ _Breathe in, Hold. Focus.’_ The repetition continued until his shoulders relaxed, and his mind could open up and be clear. It didn’t last long though. His eyes snapped open as he was jarred from his meditation by the lock on his door disengaging with a short beep. He rolled to where he had set Stormbow, nocking an arrow as he grabbed it. He was half-hidden, a snarl on his face and had his bow focused on the door before it had finished sliding open.

The cyborg was in his doorway, staring at him with its head tilted and then laughed. "Did you hear me all the way over here, Hanzo?"

Hanzo relaxed the string on his bow, rising from his crouch with a sigh as he placed the arrow back in the quiver. "That door was locked," he remarked dryly as if that alone should have made it obvious that he did not want to be disturbed.

The cyborg cocked its hip out, shrugging. "We are ninjas and you expect a door lock to stop me?" 

Hanzo's lip curled. "What do you want?"  
  
The cyborg flipped through its phone before tossing it to Hanzo. He caught it with his free hand, shooting the cyborg a confused look before his eyes flicked down to look at the screen. It was showing him messages from an unknown number. The messages detailed something Hanzo already knew. The abandoned town hadn't been far from Santa Fe; it made sense that the cowboy had made his way there. He tilted his head, frowning as the messages grew more agitated and Genji jumped to conclusions. His mouth drew further into a frown as he read the way Genji had reacted and stuck on the way his brother had jumped to defend McCree. _‘So impulsive.’_ So much like the Genji he-- No. No he needed to-- He tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere as bile started creeping into his throat. His thumb ran along the string of the bow, channeling his thoughts into the sensation. He stared at the phone for a moment before the last message that caught his attention. "So you are here to ask me about my mission again."   
  
"I am. This time, I want the truth, Hanzo."

Hanzo's eyebrow raised as he stared down the cyborg. His report had given them nothing about McCree, and the informant hadn't given them much either. If he was careful--

 

It tilted its head and crossed its arms. “You're already scheming, Hanzo. I mean it. I want _the truth_.”

He could feel those brown eyes on him, see the bright green hair as Genji pouted at him in his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to wipe away the memory. He couldn’t handle this right now, but he was _not_ going to admit that he had been _lying_. He set his jaw as he opened his eyes. "I am not scheming."

The cyborg paused but the visor remained almost unnervingly blank. Not Genji. Too emotionless for Genji. “So we’re playing that game then.” The cyborg stood, gesturing at the door. “Do you not realize how hard you're making it for yourself by _lying_ on the report of your _first mission_ ? That the only reason you’re here is because _I vouched_ for you?”

“So a stranger tells you that I am lying and you swallow it willing. Your logic is _truly_ impeccable.” He snipped back. 

The cyborg tossed his head back with a groan. “You are unbelievable. I'm trying to _help_ you.”

“I do not need help! Least of all _yours!_ Do not come to me stating you wish to help _me_ and call me a liar in the same breath. You are here about the cowboy and nothing more.”

The cyborg stared at him for a long moment, before mumbling, “Sometimes I wonder how _you_ are the older brother.”

Hanzo glared at the cold, emotionless visor and setting his jaw as _Genji,_ of all people, called _him_ childish. “You come here and accuse me of _lying_ because a stranger on your phone said so and then _dare_ call me _childish as well?”_

“Jesse was _there_. Every breaking news piece for the last 24 hours has made that obvious. ”

“It does not mean that I saw him!”

The cyborg buried that visor in its hands, inhaling deeply and then letting it out slowly, repeating the action several times before looking up again. “I just want the truth, Hanzo.”

“And I gave it to you, now leave. I will not be insulted by some… _thing_ claiming to be my brother in my own quarters.”

“Some thing?!” The cyborg's voice rose several octaves in distress. “I-- Hanzo! Why would you--” The voice lowered, softening to hurt, “We're brothers.”

Hanzo snorted derisively, “My brother would not have called me a liar on the advice of some stranger. My brother would not be relying on words--”

“Is that what you want from me?! To hit you or tackle you every time something doesn't go my way?!”

Hanzo sucked in a breath, wanting to scream yes so that he would have _proof_ that this cyborg was really his brother but he didn't have time before it continued.

“Because I _grew up_ Hanzo. I got better because I _hurt_ people and I didn't want to be like that anymore! People _change_ Hanzo. I'm in my 30s! I'm not some spoiled teenager--”

Hanzo scoffed, “You say that and yet--”

“No.” The cyborg cut him off with a dangerously low growl. “You are _not_ going to stand there and insult me and call me a _thing_ while clinging to the memory of who I was twenty years ago.”

“I did not invite you here, you started this when you _broke into_ _my room_ , and accused me of lying! Leave! I am tired of dealing with you.”  
The cyborg straightened up and for a moment, Hanzo thought that it might actually attack him, but then it let out an angry, almost inhuman roar of frustration and turned on its heel to stomp out.

He sank onto his bed with a groan when the cyborg left, burying his face in his hands out of frustration. All of his meditating had gone to waste because someone could not leave well enough alone. He didn’t even have time to start over if he hoped to keep his schedule remotely on track either. With a long-suffering sigh, he gathered up his bow and quiver and started towards the training rooms. It was going to be a  _long_ day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo, be nice to your brother.


	8. Chapter 8

‘ _Some... thing.’_ It hadn’t taken long for the frustration to dissipate and the hurt to set in. How could Hanzo just call him a thing? Like he wasn’t even-- He shook his head as he unlocked his room, taking off his visor and tossing it to the side so that he could scrub his face with his hands. He was crying despite himself and his face twisted with little gasps of annoyance as he tried to stop it.

He'd always hated this part. He cried for so many reasons and it was so stupid. He rubbed at his face again, sniffling. To make matters worse, he knew nothing more about Jesse than when he started. He whimpered pitifully as he gave into the tears. His brother didn't even believe he was really himself and his best friend was halfway around the world injured and in need of help that they couldn't provide because he didn't even know where to look, or if Jesse would even still be there when they arrived.

He pulled out his phone, staring at the unknown number and the messages they'd sent him before typing out a response.

 

 

> My brother wouldn't tell me anything.  
> 

The message turned red, and he tried several times to resend it before letting out a soft sob and a cry of frustration. No one. No one would help him. Not his brother or Jesse's friend and now he'd never get to see Jesse. What if something was really wrong? What if he died because no one could help him?!

He choked on another sob, just about to toss the phone away when one last resort dawned on him and he scrolled through his contacts down to the M's. He hadn't heard from Max in years. His messages were left unread and hell, Max was probably dead like the others, but Genji was lost and Max had always helped. Even old messages he'd sent that had gone unanswered had usually brought the tiny hacker to mind long enough to give him a solution.

This time though, he called, waiting for the voicemail to end and let him speak. “Hey, it's… it's been awhile. I… I miss you. A lot. But--” he sniffled, scrubbing at his eyes again, “This time it's not about me. It's about Jess. I need help finding him, something… anything. I know he's in Santa Fe and he's hurt... and I'm worried about him because he's just sitting there drinking while the police are out looking for him. I-- it's not the same without you…” He slumped, crying, “I miss you both so much. I just need _something._ ”

 _“To continue your message, please press four. To re-record your message, press one-nine. For more options, press--”_  

Genji fumbled as he hit the end call button, wiping his eyes again with his palms. It was a good thing he hadn't bothered with his makeup today. It would be completely ruined.

His phone chimed softly and he stared down at it for a moment as if dumbstruck. One message from Max. His mouth fell open as he fumbled again to open the message, the address of somewhere in Santa Fe staring back at him. Then, another message.

 

> Jesus Christ on a cracker ya look like a reject power ranger that found out comic con was cancelled
> 
> Received 07:58 CEST (+2 GMT)
> 
> [20760721_234007.jpg]
> 
> Youre fucking welcome
> 
> Received 07:59 CEST (+2 GMT)

 

Genji stared at the messages and the picture, a grainy image of a very familiar cowboy checking into a hotel, as it flooded in, hand shaking with the realization that Max wasn't dead at all. Another chime broke through his thoughts and he blinked.

 

 

> Between you and the hick I am over youse both
> 
> Am I the only one that didn't hit an emo phase instead of a midlife crisis
> 
> Received 07:59 CEST (+2 GMT)

 

Genji giggled through the tears still running down his cheeks at Max's almost characteristic abrasiveness, knowing that the hacker was teasing and the words were empty. It seemed all of Blackwatch heckled each other in some form or another. He sniffled and then wiped them away, starting to tap out a message when Max sent him another.

 

 

> Betta grab a screenshot.
> 
> These messages will self destruct
> 
> Received 08:03 CEST (+2 GMT)

 

Genji's eyes widened as he scrambled for paper to jot down the address and the name of the hotel from the picture only seconds before they scrambled and the picture was replaced by the image of a laughing ghost. He almost wanted to laugh himself because it was so like Max to do something like that.

 

 

> And as for the hicks new friend? You'll stay away from that two-faced bitch if youse knows what's good for ya
> 
> She's bad news
> 
> Received 08:05 CEST (+2 GMT)

 

Genji wrinkled his nose at the warning, and then went to delete the other messages from Jesse's 'friend.’ Max had been more help than she had been anyway and Genji knew he could trust him. They'd worked together for years.By the time he flipped back, the message was scrambled. He wasn't surprised. He chuckled softly as he typed out a message, erasing it several times and chewing on his cheek.

 

 

> Thank you, Max, for your help. I'm so glad to hear from you again. I thought you were dead.

 

 _Message sending failed_ . He tossed his head back with a groan, “Really?! Come on Max, you can't just let me think you're dead for _six years_ and then do this to me!” But of course, there was no answer from his phone. Just scrambled messages and a laughing ghost.

He sighed as he stared down at the piece of paper and then turned to leave. There was no guarantee that Jesse would stay at that hotel long. They had to get going soon. He waved absentmindedly at a camera as he passed, rolling his eyes with a smile as it blinked out “Fuck you,” in Morse. At least he knew Max was there. That did a lot to boost his spirits.

It wasn't until he got back to the others and they gave him concerned looks that he realized that he'd never put his visor back on. He grinned, waving the paper, “I got an address! Although… Hanzo insists that he was telling the truth. I--” he looked down at the floor, “I'm not sure who to believe.”

Angela's face had contorted as if she had something to say and then thought better of it, “Well, I'm sure we'll find out when we get Jesse back. In the meantime, you said you got an address?”

Genji nodded, handing the slip of paper to Lena so that she could read it. “A hotel in Santa Fe. Maybe an old friend?” He shrugged. “Whoever it is, Jesse feels safe enough to sleep there with cops searching the city but there's no guarantee he'll be there for long.”

“I'll get the jet ready! We'll be there in a flash!” Lena was already out the door in a blur of blue, leaving the rest of them to collect themselves before they followed her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I was an industrious writer the past couple weeks, you guys get two chapters this week :D


	9. Chapter 9

Jesse jolted awake to his phone going off, Reveille blaring through the room and doing very few favors for his head. The frantic movement jarred his wrist, sending pain shooting up his arm and he let out a hissed yell. _‘Of all fuckin’ times. Ya know I specifically remember asking for a break. This doesn’t count.'_ He reached for his phone to shut it off, dropping it when it shocked him. The bugle became twisted and garbled and the purple skull began to glitch out, screen frantically flipping colors before the entire thing went black. _'Oh that's not good.’_ “Ollie what did ya do t’ my phone this time? C'mon these things ain't cheap! I know it's just a burner but--”

**_“Ahahahahaaaa!”_ **

“Sonuvabitch!” Jesse nearly jumped back as his phone lit up again, the image of a laughing ghost replaying again and again. He stared at it wide-eyed and then immediately started looking for cameras even though the frantic searching was killing his head.

_“What’s wrong hick? I thought you’d be happy to see me._ _"_

Jesse was too tired for this. Way too tired, but he was being watched by someone who ought to be six feet under and that last he'd checked, wasn't too fond of him. That meant that he needed to get out now before whoever or whatever reason Max had suddenly reappeared caught up.

He went for the lights, flicking them on for a moment and hissing as it hit his eyes. When did lamps get so bright? Were they always like that? He wasn’t sure if it was the hangover, lack of sleep or just a side effect of being a werewolf at this point, but _something_ told him it was a bit of everything.

_“What’s that saying about the blind leading the blind? Ah fuck it, I don't remember. That light can't be good for your hangover. Here, lemme help.”_

The lights cut only seconds later and Jesse cursed. He whirled to go for his pistol, stumbling as the movement sent the whole room spinning, vaguely registering the ringing sound of a fire alarm and the hiss of the sprinklers second before they turned on, drenching him in cold water.  
  
_“Why don’tcha take a shower too, hick, I can smell ya through the screen.”_

“Oh _fuck off,_ Max!” He sputtered, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and brushing his hair back. What was the hacker up to? He was stalling, but why? His eyes flicked to the sliver of light peeking around the curtains to make sure it wasn't flashing blue and red but was met with the warm orangish glow from a nearby streetlight. No cops. At least not yet. He raked his hand down his face, blinking so that his eyes would adjust. One would think after six and a half years of being a werewolf he'd be used to all of this but somehow, he just seemed to do his best to ignore it.

_“Wow. The last time I saw-- No wait. I don't think I've ever seen something so pathetic in my life and I've watched every episode of Kitchen Nightmares.”_

Who was he working for? Morrison? Nah, Morrison was dead. Or...well shit. He'd sworn Max was too after-- God, wouldn't that be just his luck? He shook the water out of his hair, groaning as he suddenly thought better of it and stumbled again. He needed to get his gun and leave.

_“Whatcha looking for? Don't tell me it's your pride because lemme tell ya, hick. That got swindled years ago.”_

Jesse ignored him because honestly, he didn't have time to pay attention to all of Max's baiting. He finally managed to get his gun and holster it which, honestly was a feat in of itself.

_“Hey. Hey hick.”_

Jesse gave a noise of disgust as the hacker kept going. Wasn't the old saying ignore it and it'll go away? Why did that never work when it came to _his_ problems?

_“What time is it?”_

Jesse sighed because frankly that joke had been played out so many times, even the fun comebacks like the actual time, telling them they needed a new watch and just about every other retort he had wasn't even funny anymore. "Dunno. 'Bout half past fuck off, I'd guess, but ya trashed my phone so I can't double check.”

Gun, cigars, lighter, hat. Fuck it. He had the important stuff. He brushed his hair back again and put his hat back where it belonged, hoping that the brim would shield his face from anymore water and headed for the back door that his rooms always had when he stayed here. He'd pay for the damage as soon as he was sure that he wasn't about to get shot in the back.

_“Hey!”_

Jesse kept walking.

_“I didn't say you could go.”_

“I don't recall needin’ yer permission.”

_“That's funny--”_

Jesse's left arm went dead, the elbow suddenly losing power and nearly ripping his arm out of the socket as all of it suddenly turned to deadweight as he reached for the door knob. He stumbled, gritting his teeth as it powered back on, blue lights turning nearly white. The fingers wiggled for a moment, sending waves of discomfort up his arm as he tried to regain control of it. Instead, he got a reproachful finger waggle.

_“Because I do.”_

_'Son of a bitch.’_ Jesse grimaced as the hacker played with his arm.

_“Hey, think you could give me a hand?”_

“I'll give ya a goddamn bullet in the head--”

He was rewarded with a gentle punch to the shoulder before a finger pointed in his face and then waggled.

_"That was rude, but you really shouldn't beat yourself up over it.”_

Jesse gritted his teeth. The lack of sleep two nights in a row and his previous choice to drink himself stupid had ended about as well as anyone would expect it to. “Yer a jackass.”

_“Aw thanks. But I'm the jackass with the arm and flattery won't get you anywhere, hick.”_

Jesse slumped with his back to the door, trying to take deep breaths and not think about what Max was stalling him for. He closed his eyes, breathing shaky as he grit his teeth. “So how much they payin’ ya, ya crazy Yank?” 

There was a pause. Total silence and for a moment, he thought Max might have left.

 _“Paying me? Jesse… no one is paying me. I’m worried about you.”_  
  
Jesse grimaced as a new wave of pain came from just about everywhere. “Got a funny way of showin’ it.”

_“Well youse was always shit at takin’ a joke.”_

Jesse deadpanned, “Sorry I don’t find gettin’ woken up by a dead man and soaked to the bone funny.”

_“Well that’s just cuz you gotta shitty sense of humor. I thought it was hilarious.”_

“Course ya did.” Jesse grimaced as he tried to haul himself up, “Now, if ya don’t mind… I’d like t’ get goin’.”

There was a pause and then laughter, as if Jesse had just said the funniest thing that Max had ever heard. _“I bet you would, but you need that arm looked at.”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Was workin’ on that if ya hadn’t woken me up by sendin’ God only knows after me.”  
  
_“Really? Cause from over here it looked like you were three sheets to the wind and tryin’ to forget yer name.”_

“I don’t remember askin’ you.”

 _“As drunk as you were, I’m not surprised.”_ _  
_ _  
_ Jesse growled, ready to retort again and then slumped defeatedly. He was tired and in the condition he was in, he wasn’t going anywhere anyway.  
  
_“Look. Genji’s worried about you. You look like shit, Jesse.”_

“Yeah? Cause runnin’ for yer life kinda does that to ya.”

_“If ya let No Mercy look at yer arm, if ya still want out after, I’ll personally break ya out.”_

Jesse glanced up at where Max’s voice was coming from and then bowed his head with a sigh and a resigned, “Sure.”

Max mumbled something but Jesse wasn’t paying attention. Honestly, it wasn’t that he didn’t believe Max, he’d worked with the guy long enough to hold him to his word. Max wasn’t who worried him.

_“Capo ain’t there, if it makes you feel better… I wouldn’t do that to ya.”_

Jesse sighed. “Helps, yeah.”  There was a slight thump outside and then voices. “Guess that’d be them.” He half-expected a snarky retort but was met with silence and a glance down at his arm revealed that the hacker relinquished control and the lights had returned to their normal almost-cyan color. He wiggled his fingers, grimacing at the near-numbness and then hauled himself up. On the plus side, they might not get to kill him because with the state this room was in, Tracy would skin him alive.

“Do you think he's still here?” Angela's voice filtered through the wall.

_'Oh I'm still here. Unfortunately…’_

He wasn't even sure he had it in him to pretend to be good ole smiling Jesse McCree. He shuffled to the chair, pulling Peacekeeper and laying it across his lap, just in case there were any... surprises. He pulled a cigar from the small box he kept at his side and fumbled to light it as the two outside attempted to pick the lock. Part of him was tempted to just unlock the door and stand where the door would hide him because he was in one of those kinds of moods and could use a laugh, but instead, he just sat and waited. The lock clicked and Genji’s little triumphant, “Ha!” actually brought a smile to his face. It sounded like Genji was doing better. At least someone was.

“It's dark,” Angela whispered, “Should we knock? What if he's asleep?”

“Oh ya ain't gotta worry about that, Ange. Besides, yer already in the door. Kinda late fer knockin’ don't ya think?”

He heard her squeak, as if she was trying to muffle the urge to scream.

“Dunno if the lights'll come on though. Kinda had a rude awakening earlier. Might wanna watch yer step too...and where ya sit for that matter.”

“Do I even want to know?” Genji groaned.

“Might've left a cigar lit and fell asleep…”

“Jesse!” There was an exasperated sigh and what he assumed was the sound of Angela facepalming.

He couldn't quite see them yet, but they were getting closer. He glanced up when-- Green? His head tilted up, brow furrowing. “Huh. Ya got a new look. Looks good on ya.” Even if he kinda looked like a power ranger.

The lights flicked on and Jesse winced, turning his head away.

“Holy shit, Jess what _happened_ to you?”

Jesse almost choked on the laugh, “Be easier t’ name what didn't. Cops, bounty hunters, whiskey, waking up to a cold shower…” _'Hunters, werewolves, jackass hackers...take yer pick.’_

Angela sighed as she approached, looking him over and shaking her head. “And you wonder why you never had solo missions. We can't leave you _alone_ for--”

“Hey! Been doing just fine fer like seven years.”

“... ‘Fine’. Because losing an arm and getting yourself drunk all the time is fine.”

Jesse could almost feel the deadpan stare from Genji as the cyborg held up his fingers in mocking quotations and returned the look, mouth pulled to one side. “Arm wasn't my fault and I ain't drunk _all_ _the time_. I don't recall askin’ fer y'all to come in here and judge me. In fact, I don't recall askin’ fer y'all to come here, period. So maybe stop givin’ me shit and fix the arm y'all are so worried about? I don't fancy two of these,” he raised his left arm for emphasis.

Angela frowned. Didn’t seem like she liked his attitude but frankly, he didn’t care right now. Ugh, what he'd give for a night of undisturbed sleep. She moved closer to inspect him, shining a light over his bruised and swollen arm. Jesse almost instinctively bowed his head so that she wouldn’t see his eyes. With any luck she could just clean it up, get it healed and he could be on his way.

She apparently had other ideas. “Jesse, you’re going to have to come back to Gibraltar with us. I don’t have the proper medical facilities to work on your arm. It’s not even sterile here.”

Jesse sighed. “I had a feeling you were gonna say that.”

“Besides the infection and bruising, I need to make sure your arm isn’t fractured. It is very swollen. What did you even--”  
  
“Huntin’.”

“Hunting...what?”

Jesse didn’t answer at first. The wounds wouldn’t be consistent with a chupacabra, and admitting to werewolf was going to be trouble.

“Jesse?”

His eyes flicked up, though not enough to show the amber glow to Angela. Did he really want to just admit it? “Hm? Oh uh-- Not monster huntin’. Coyotes get t’ be a nuisance out here. ‘M kinda tired ‘n the hangover ain’t helpin’.”

“...Coyotes.” Genji crossed his arms.

“What?”

“You are a such a liar!”

“Alright then wise ass, since you were obviously there and know better than I do, why don’t ya go on and tell me what happened t’ my arm?”

“Not a coyote!”

“Alright fine. Yer right…It wasn’t _a_ coyote--”

“Of course it wasn't."

“...Cause they travel in packs.”

The disgustedly annoyed noise that came from Genji made Jesse roar with laughter. “Ya walked right into that one, partner.”

“I hate you.”

“Love ya too.”

“Boys…"

Jesse sighed and then his head shot up when there was a knock at the door.

“Billy? Ya awake in there?”

Jesse winced as he got up, “Might wanna scratch that third ticket. Think I'm about t’ meet my maker ahead of schedule.” Tracy was going to kill him for the state this room was in. More knocking, this time more urgent. “Just a sec!”

He groaned as he stood, listening to things crackle that probably shouldn't. He should probably get that checked while Angie was fussing over his arm.

He opened the door, giving Tracy a sheepish smile. “Mornin’ Mama.”

“Quit yer grinnin’. Jesus, ya look like a soaked cat, boy.”

Jesse chuckled nervously, “I can explain…”

“Ya dont need to. Get out here.”

“Yes ma'am.” Hoo boy. She wasn't even gonna listen to his story. He stepped out beside the tiny ball of elderly snark and bad attitude, rubbing his neck.

She closed the door behind him, hands on her hips and then lowered her voice, “Your friend already paid me and explained. Yer doctor friend in there? And I don't mean Jack, Johnny or Jim.”

“Yes ma'am, she's here. 'N pardon my confusion but… my friend?”

“Some hacker kid claiming to be Al Capone. I was born at night but it wasn't last night. You keep some odd company, boy.”

He snorted, “Ya don't know the half of it.”

“In any case, he sent me enough money to fix the room and,” she held up her fingers in mock quotations, “Forget this _evah_ happened so...” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Go get your arm fixed and for God's sake, put some dry clothes on before you catch your death.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She waved him off and then turned to hobble back down to the office where she stayed all night. “And try not to look like roadkill the next time ya drag yer ass into my hotel? People talk.”

“Now I don't like to make promises I can't keep but...I'll try t’ be more presentable next time. Might even shave. Just fer you.”

She gave him a disgusted noise and then continued walking.

He watched her go, making sure that she got downstairs safely because even if she hated it, he watched out for her. Not out loud or where she could see, but he did it anyways. When she was downstairs, he turned back to the door, mouth quirking to one side, “Aight, ya got three seconds to get yer face and anything else you hold dear away from the door before I open it...Starting now. One.”

Sure enough, there was the muffled scramble of motorized joints as Genji scurried away from the door. Jesse rolled his eyes. Genji never changed. He shook his head as he opened the door to find Genji perched on one of the chairs looking perfectly innocent.

“So… cigar, huh?”

“Ya know, eavesdroppin’ is rude.” He could almost _see_ the shit-eating grin on Genji's face. “But yes, you can thank a certain jackass for me still being here when y'all arrived.”

“So… still going with the coyote story?”

“That's my story and I'm stickin’ to it.”

Genji stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. “By the way, Lena and Reinhardt are here.”

“Oh good,” Jesse groaned. “I didn't particularly need my spine.”

“Don't worry, I will advise them both not to hug you before we get there.”

“Thanks, Ange.” Nevermind that he didn't want to go in the first place, but it was preferable to losing his arm. He wanted to see his friends, but… preferably not so soon after the full moon and in the state he was in. They would worry and ask questions and then he'd have to skirt those questions and hide his eyes. This was going to be such a pain in the ass.

“Jesse.”

“Hm?” He glanced up, mouth quirking to one side around his cigar and realized that the two had somehow ended up beside him. Oh. Shit, he must have zoned out. “Were ya sayin’ somethin’?”

He didn't miss the worried look Angela shot Genji, “We were about to leave.”

Jesse hummed in acknowledgment and pulled his hat down, tucking his serape around his injured arm so that he would hopefully get fewer stares. Maybe they'd be too focused on Genji to notice him. “Aight, let's get going then...before I stop focusin’ on my hangover and remember how fucked my arm is.”


	10. Chapter 10

To say Genji was worried about Jesse would be an understatement. Not only had Jesse been quiet for most of the trip back to the jet, but he kept lagging behind as if he were trying to slip away. Genji frowned, and waited for him to catch up before falling in step with the cowboy. Jesse didn’t even look up and that was another thing. He’d kept his head down most of the time they’d been near him, and didn’t look up far enough for his eyes to be visible, which was saying a lot given that he was taller than both of them. “You know, Lena’s really excited to see you. She wouldn’t stop talking the entire trip here.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Lena.”

“Okay, what gives? You’re not even acting like yourself!”

“Hangover, fucked up arm… no sleep, take yer pick.”

“Jesse, I have seen you with a hangover and recovering from being shot and you were never this quiet.”

Ahead of them, Angela made a disappointed noise as if this were her first time learning of this.

“I also hadn’t spent the last seven years runnin’ for my life.”

Genji frowned deeper at the snappy tone in the cowboy’s voice. He hadn’t seen Jesse like this since the cowboy had first joined Blackwatch. Come to think of it, it was almost exactly like when he first joined, except the silence. The silence was unnerving. Jesse was not a quiet man. In fact, the only time Genji knew Jesse to be quiet was when he was hiding something or beyond pissed. Given the blatant lying earlier, he didn’t think Jesse was pissed but… He glanced over at the cowboy again. All he could see was the man’s jaw, or rather, his messy beard, his occasionally flaring cigar and his nose. It was hard to tell his expression around the cigar, but it seemed like his mouth was pulled to one side. Honestly, he wondered if Jesse could even see out from under his hat. 

They eventually made it back to the jet, though the cowboy’s almost curt terseness continued to worry Genji. What could be stressing him so much? Despite seeming to want to, Reinhardt remained seated when Jesse stepped onto the jet and even kept his voice low. Well, as low as he was capable of. Jesse gave a half-hearted wave as he passed, much to the knight’s dismay.  Genji reached up to take the visor off and shot Reinhardt an empathetic frown. Something was very wrong with Jesse but he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Even Lucio and Hana looked confused when the cowboy found a spot at the back of the jet and tipped his hat down further. Maybe Jesse really was just exhausted. Still, this just wasn't like him.

Genji sighed as he settled down between Lucio and Hana. Jesse hadn't even cast a second glance at them. Hana didn't seem as bothered by it as Lucio, who kept looking from Jesse to Genji and then down at his sound equipment. “Be right back,” Lucio mumbled and then got up and headed towards the back as Lena announced the preflight checks. Genji wasn't sure anyone ever paid attention to them but it was reassuring in a way. His attention returned to Lucio, who had sat a few seats away from Jesse, and was fiddling with his sound equipment, headphones on and looking like he was trying to find something. A certain track, maybe? Jesse on the other hand, was definitely still awake. His shoulders were set in a way that said he was uncomfortable, though whether that was due to his arm, the hangover or Lucio's presence, Genji wasn't quite sure.

Lucio finally shifted, pulling his headphones off and leaning over towards Jesse, grinning. The cowboy's head tilted up slightly, acknowledging that the siren was trying to talk to him.

“Hey man. Got something I wanna try out, if you don't mind?”

Genji tilted his head, watching Jesse until the cowboy tilted his head up more.

“What kinda somethin’?”

“Just music! All ya gotta do is listen!”

The cowboy gave a grunt and then shrugged, “What the hell, can't make my head any worse.”

“Nah, it'll make it better! Or should… I haven't tried this beat before.”

“Comfortin'.”

Genji pursed his lips at the cowboy but given that he hadn’t outright told Lucio no, and instead just settled back down. Lucio’s music began to play shortly after, a calm, relaxing tune that had Genji feeling sleepy within minutes. It seemed to be working on Jesse too because the cowboy’s shoulders and dropped and his head was lolling to one side. 

He woke up to Lena cussing, which quickly turned to a scream as the plane suddenly shuddered and then for a moment, they were weightless, the seat suddenly feeling miles away and a few things leaving the floor.

_Guess who’s back, back again… Skkkkrrcch!_

Genji rolled his eyes as the jet righted itself, but Jesse seemed far less amused by the sudden and rude awakening of his hat leaving his head and obnoxiously loud music being blared from Lucio’s speakers.

_Step by step, heart to heart, left right left, We all fall down…_

The plane gave another violent shudder and Lena’s cursing grew louder. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride! Strap in loves, and don’t leave your seat!”

Lucio’s speakers were steadily playing music, though Genji was more focused on what was going on with the plane. He wasn’t sure he could move even if he wanted to because he felt like he was bolted to the seat, even before the seatbelts. A quick look out the window revealed something more terrifying. The plane was tumbling, horizon spinning around and the entire plane seemed to be pointed at the ground. Angela was clinging to Reinhardt like she fully expected the plane to drop out of the sky at any second but Hana seemed to be enjoying herself.

The jet shuddered again and then seemed to level out.

_"Yeah, it don't feel good t' just get dropped by somebody ya trusted, does it?"_

Max was muttering in his ear, but Genji wasn’t sure that he meant to broadcast it.

_"Youse guys ain't seen a damn thing yet."_

Genji was suddenly weightless again. He vaguely registered Lena cursing, but the red in his vision was a lot more concerning. Sensors were going haywire, both in the plane and in his suit. Then, the sensors began to return to normal, steam hissing from his shoulders. Jesse was red in the face, as were the others. Suddenly, the plane leveled and his suit adjusted for the return to normal gravity for only seconds before he was being pressed against the seat and getting heavier by the second. It was immediately obvious who had been given flight training because all of them were tensed up, taking the same short breaths while those that hadn’t were either unconscious or going to be soon. The plane was beginning to creak, sensors blaring as they climbed and then there was the weightlessness again. Hana had slumped over and then, almost as soon as the rollercoaster ride had begun, it stopped. The plane leveled out, horizon line going back to where it should be, and his sensors stopped freaking out and trying to compensate for rapid shifts in G-forces.

 _“_ _Hello, this is your captain speaking. Welcome aboard Air Spectre.  We are presently flying at thirty-six thousand feet on our flight from Santa Fe to Gibraltar.”_

In the back, Genji heard Jesse groan and then whine, “Just got rid of that headache, the fuck’s wrong with ya, ya crazy’ Yank?”

_“Why don'tcha ask yer old friends what the fuck's wrong with me? Since neither of youse could be bothered to answer my distress call.”_

Genji blinked and looked over at Jesse who had gone pale and closed his eyes with a pained expression. What distress call? Max had sent for help? When? “What distress call? I never got-- Max?”

Nothing.

“Jess, what is he--”

The cowboy shook his head but Genji frowned and persisted, “Jesse. What is going on?”

There was more silence and then Jesse gave a long-suffering sigh. “Max sent out a distress call a week 'r so before HQ blew. I was--” he went quiet again, then held up his metal arm, “dealin’ with more'n a few things and didn't see it till a few days later. Few days after that, Swiss base blows 'n I hear it through the grapevine that the boys at the UN executed Max on war crimes… 'r at least that's what the official report says--”

_“Believe me, they tried. I woke up in a box.”_

Genji frowned and then sank down. “I didn't know… I would have come back for you--”

 _“But ya didn't. War criminals don't get buried, ya know? We get cremated. When I woke up that box was on_ **_fire_ ** _.”_

Genji grimaced. He wasn't sure how Max had gotten out or if he even wanted to know. “I'm sorry, I didn't know.” He wouldn't ever have wished that on Max! He glanced at Jesse but the cowboy had his head down, staring at what looked to be a game token and flipping it over in his fingers. Did it mean something to him?

_"Well it's real convenient-like that youse can call me when ya need somethin' but when my life is on the line ya don't answer yer goddamn phone."_

Genji was silent at the accusation and anger. It certainly was on him, but why _hadn’t_ he gotten the call? By all means he should have! He leaned forward, thinking hard on where he could have been or why he would have never gotten the call. Could he have been with the Bedouins? He furrowed his brow and then frowned. “I travelled a lot trying to come to terms with being a cyborg after I left, and visited many remote places. It’s--” he closed his eyes, “I’m almost certain that if I did not see the call, it was because I was in an area with no signal.” He would never have ignored Max calling for help. “But the reason doesn’t matter, I let you down when you needed me and I’m sorry.”

Genji looked back up, chewing on his lip and wishing that he hadn’t tossed his comm away. It was no wonder Max had never answered him. He glanced over at Jesse, who was still fiddling with the token in his hand.

_"Whoo, that was close one! Ya very nearly admitted fault to something. How's it feel to brush that close to responsibility? Did it tickle?”_

Genji frowned at the words but they didn’t have any real venom behind them. Still, he thought he’d gotten better about that. He fidgeted a little when Jesse snorted and then winced, “C’mon I thought that was a good attempt.”

_"Yeah yeah, yer probably right. Also he's makin' the face and you know I can't handle the face.”_

“Can any of us? I mean really… I think someone makin’ ‘im make the face was fightin’ words fer half of Blackwatch.”

_"There's an entire circle 'a hell devoted to assholes who make Genji make the face."_

Genji pursed his lips, “Guys, I am literally almost 40.”

“Yeah an’ I’ll still kill a motherfucker that makes ya make the face. Sorry Max, next time I see ya...” Jesse shrugged with a smile, “Them’s the rules.”

Genji rolled his eyes but then conceded. He supposed having two friends who couldn’t stand him upset was better that than two upset friends.

_“I'm already half-dead, what's the other half too?”_

_‘Wait. What?’_ Genji stared at the speakers, dumbfounded.

“Nah, maybe just three-quarters.”

_"I can live with three quarters dead. It's the 'all dead om nom nom nom' I ain't cool with."_

“Wha--” Genji looked between the speakers and Jesse, “What are you guys talking about? There’s dead and not-dead.”

“And undead.”

“And...wha-- Wait. When?”

Jesse was giving him a disbelieving look, or at least he assumed that's what expression was because he _still_ couldn't see the cowboy's eyes.

“Don't act like ya don't-- wait. Yer dead fuckin’ serious. Holy shit. 'N after the UN fuckin'--”

There was a hiss and grumbling from the speakers, but Genji couldn't quite make out the words.

Jesse obviously hadn't heard it at all because the cowboy was laughing now, grimacing as he did so, “Jesus. Why'd ya go ‘n make me laugh? So, ya wanna tell 'im or should I?”

_“Uh, How’se about we don’t tell nobody nothin’ and youse just keep yer mouth shut, Hick?”_

“Shit. My bad.”

“What? Wait. Why? What's going on?” Now both of the men he called his closest friends were hiding something from him and he didn't know what. He had sneaking suspicions, of course, but nothing solid and neither of them seemed keen to change that. “You both are hiding _something_ and I don't like it!”

Jesse glanced up further, and then as if he thought better of whatever had crossed his mind, ducked his head back down to stare at his lap.

Genji groaned loudly and slumped in his seat, “You guys are the worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I was a little late uploading! Sorry guys! 
> 
> This chapter gives a little insight to Max's character! If you'd like to see more of him, you should definitely go check out LadamaB's oneshot set in OMaM's past over [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15030812)!


	11. Chapter 11

The base was… empty. _Quiet_. Reinhardt's booming voice didn’t echo down the halls, grating on his nerves even if he knew the man couldn't help it, and there weren't any murmurs or whispers of the others as they passed. Just emptiness. Where was everyone? Hanzo found himself almost pacing the hallways, trying to determine where everyone had gone. The base was too quiet, too empty. It had been hours since he left the training rooms, and even at lunchtime, he had found himself alone in the cafeteria.

“Is there something I can help you with, Agent Shimada?”

Athena's voice nearly had him jumping out of his skin, but he recovered quickly, clearing his throat, “Perhaps. Where are the others?”

“Agents Tracer, Reinhardt, Lúcio, D.Va, Mercy and Genji departed several hours ago in search of former agent Jesse McCree. They should be returning shortly. Winston is in his lab. Shall I call for him?

Hanzo grimaced, “No, thank you.” If they had found the cowboy… “Is McCree with them?”

“Yes. Agent Mercy was concerned with the state of his arm and wished to care for him here.”

 _'Wonderful.’_ “Does it appear McCree has any intentions of staying?”

“It does not at this time, though rest may change his mind. He is currently under duress and acting… out of sorts.”

Well then, that just meant that he would need to stay very far away from the medbay and possibly anywhere else the cowboy might venture until he was healed. More faces to avoid, at least his schedule kept him away from most of them.

He sighed as he ventured towards the kitchen again, finding it just as barren as it had been several hours prior. It was mildly unnerving. Perhaps he would make himself dinner and sit up on the cliffs to eat. Then it wouldn't seem so empty on the base. He could also watch for the plane's return. Several cabinet searches and some grumbling about the lack of variety in ingredients later, Hanzo managed to produce enough to make decent okonomiyaki. It seemed as if someone, likely Reinhardt, had gone overboard cooking _everything_ in the kitchen. _Again._ Not that he was much better, given a chance, but it was annoying when all of the ingredients that he'd been looking for were gone and had to substitute.

On the upside, there was no Genji, or a cyborg that insisted that it was Genji, hounding him about how obnoxiously unhealthy his dinner was going to be when he was done with it. He had already justified it to himself with the fact that he had probably expended enough calories during training alone to cover breakfast, lunch, and dinner and if he hadn’t, well, he really didn’t give a shit. His alcohol intake alone was far worse of an issue than indulging in an unhealthy dinner. Besides, he was going climbing before and after eating. It would be fine.

Mixing the batter was almost like muscle memory, and he almost zoned out as he combined the shredded cabbage and chopped scallions with flour and eggs. As he reached for the box grater, he suddenly realized and then lamented the absence of yamaimo and pickled red ginger, though the latter was entirely his fault because he had already used it up and not bought more. He was lucky enough to have bought dashi and bonito flakes recently, and there was always plenty of fish. Today appeared to be a shrimp and assorted shellfish day, not that he minded.

He had unfortunately, overlooked the fact that the smell would make him homesick. The thoughts of Genji were worse though. Festivals. A young Genji, barely five, running ahead to get to the sweets while Hanzo held their okonomiyaki and stayed beside his mother and father. Older, in their teens,sharing a rare moment when they talked about crushes over a meal, where Genji had bashfully admitted that he was more interested in men than women. His face screwed up as he leaned on the counter. Not now. _Not now._ His knuckles turned white as he gripped the counter, eyes starting to sting. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thoughts from his head. His teeth remained gritted as he flipped the first two, almost tempted to trash them and forego eating for the night. He'd regret that though. He knew he would and instead, he pulled the flask of sake at his side and took a large swig. When the first two were done, he wrapped them and set them aside almost numbly, taking another drink of sake and repeating the process until the batter was gone.

The last thing was to pack them up, alongside Japanese mayonnaise and okonomiyaki sauce which he was suddenly thankful he'd had the foresight to buy beforehand, even if it was a half-hearted sentiment. He didn't even really want to eat but he needed to. Another swig of sake and, because no one was here to scold him for it, he took the bonito flakes with him.

Halfway outside, he realized that he hadn't brought a single thing to drink and had been forced to turn back and get a couple bottles of water. The climb up the rocks was a feat, one that left Hanzo jittery from adrenaline when he finally made it to the top. As it would happen, drinking and rock-climbing didn't exactly go well together. Less so when one was trying to carry dinner up with them and thus had extra weight to worry about. Not one of his better ideas. Then again, given that the last several years of his life had been an unbroken string of bad decisions, what was one more?

He sat down, gazing out over the ocean as he unwrapped the first of the small, savory cakes and placed it on the plate he'd brought with him. He pulled a bottle of water and the condiments, taking a drink with one hand as he made uneven lines of Japanese mayonnaise and okonomiyaki sauce and sprinkled a pinch of bonito flakes over the top. Normally, his lines would have been at the very least evenly spaced but alcohol had the miraculous effect of removing any and all fucks he had left to give. He was hungry, homesick, and he missed his brother more than ever, so eating unhealthy fried food while drinking what was left of his sake was sounding less and less like a bad idea.

From his perch, he could see Winston working. The scientist puttered this way and that, picking things up and then setting them down as if he was undecided on what he should be working on. Hanzo took another drink of water, watching Winston for only a little while longer before he laid back or perhaps, rather, flopped backwards to stare up at the sky. It was late afternoon and the clouds were slowly rolling across the sky. How he wished he could be up there with them. He shifted, grimaced and then rubbed his tattooed arm. _‘Not here. Not now. Later.’_ Always later.

He eventually gave in to the urge to drink his sake, rather than the water, not that it was hard to convince himself of it. His will had been notoriously weak when it came to alcohol lately. Lately being the last several years, but honestly, who was counting? He occasionally propped himself up to take a swig of sake or bites of his okonomiyaki, and, by the time his flask was empty, two of the five cakes he'd packed were gone. He closed his eyes, feeling comfortably warm and relatively relaxed. No one to whisper behind his back or ghosts of his past lurking in wait. Just silence.

\---

 He startled awake to something cold hitting his face, a distant thunderclap quickly bringing him back to the present. He cursed, gathering his belongings and dashing inside. Movement and shuffling got his attention and he whipped around, magic shimmering around him.

“Athena,” Winston's muffled voice echoed from the other side of the room, “Where is the jet? They should be back by now.”

Hanzo's brow furrowed. Should they? What time was it? Lightning flashed behind him, illuminating the dim passageway and his magic flared for a moment before he stamped it down. He couldn't go back outside in this. Not if the jet would be returning. The storm would have been a great cover if not for that.

“Following some turbulence, its speed appears to have slowed. It is currently over Facinas, Spain and should be here within minutes.”

“Good.”

_‘No.’_

He glanced back, eyes flashing as the thunder followed. _‘Still far. Perhaps when the jet returns…'_ His eyes returned to the lab and sighed, shifting the weight of his pack as he started walking. With any luck, Winston wouldn't notice him. 

Luck was not with him that day. Rather, luck hadn't been with him for at least the last month but he still hoped that one day it would return. No sooner had he rounded the corner and started downstairs, Winston turned, spotted him and startled, sending equipment and papers crashing to the floor.

“Excuse me, sorry,” Winston cleared his throat and fussed about, cleaning up the parts and pieces of paper, “I didn't realize you were here, Hanzo. Did you need something?”

“No, thank you. I was just passing through in an attempt to stay out of the rain.”

“I see!” The scientist seemed to settle, stacking the almost comically small papers and sorting them before picking them up and tapping the sides against the desk to line them up neatly. “I'll leave you to that then. Have a good night, Hanzo.”

“I will, thank you.” Despite Hanzo's belief that Winston was ill-prepared to lead this group, the scientist was polite, didn't gossip and for that, Hanzo respected him. Another crack of thunder set him moving. He needed to be back in his room by the time the others got back if he hoped to slip out and take advantage of the storm's cover later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early upload surplus chapter! Next chapter comes out this Friday :D
> 
> Hanzo's got a few problems to work through. Problem is, the solutions usually involve sake.
> 
>  
> 
> Want more updates or just to chat with me? Join my Discord!  
> https://discord.gg/aBaNSE2


	12. Chapter 12

By the time the others recovered from 'Air Spectre’, they were already most of the way back. Max had gone quiet, and Genji was extremely unhappy with them both. Jesse hated that he had to hide what he was, but it was for the best. He tipped his hat down, pretending to sleep while Genji begrudgingly stopped glaring promises of death at him and went to help them all get reoriented with where they were.

Jesse did feel bad for them, waking up following a high-G blackout was not fun and he assumed that he had only being a wolf and being trained to withstand it to thank that he was still awake.

Genji was fabricating a story about how they had hit a storm cell and the turbulence had caused problems but judging by Lena's reaction, she knew it was bullshit. She also wasn't saying as much to the rest of them and Jesse smiled a little. _'Atta girl.’_ Lena had always hung around Blackwatch, as rough of a place as it was, because she felt that she fit in more with them after the accident, or at least, that's what she'd told him once. She knew when they were covering and something told him she also remembered more than she was letting on.

Everyone else seemed more or less okay, though Angela and Rein were definitely more shaken by the experience than the rest of them. Bless her heart though, Angela was still up and trying to check on the others and make sure that they hadn't suffered anything worse than a blackout. He didn't look up when her heels approached him, because he wanted no part of this. Get to Gibraltar, get arm fixed, get out. Done. Simple.

Except he knew that it wouldn't be that simple. He'd probably have to stay on base while it healed and that meant chatting everyone up to pretend not a damn thing was wrong. Leaving again would be the hardest thing he ever did, but he couldn't risk them finding out. If they found out that he was a wolf, leaving would be the least of his problems.

“Jesse?”

Shit. If he didn't answer she'd think there was more shit wrong with him. “Ayep? Need somethin’, Ange?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Before or after the known issues?”

“Any changes I should know about?”

He almost snorted and joked about the one once a month and caught himself, mouth pulling to one side.

“Headache's back and arm is hurtin’ me a bit more but given the circumstances, I'd say that's normal.”

“Let me know if anything changes.”

“You got it, Doc.”

Genji sat down across from him but Jesse didn't look up. 

“So you're ignoring me now?” He grumbled as Angela walked away.

“Not ignorin’, sleepin’. ‘R trying to.”

“Right.”

Goddamnit, he was making the _face_. Jesse glanced up just a little. “If I was ignorin' ya, I wouldn't be talkin’ to ya right now, now would I?”

“You're still avoiding the subject from earlier.”

“I told ya my story.” He wasn't about to give himself away trapped 40,000 feet in the air with six other hunters.

“And it's a bullshit story.”

Jesse shrugged, “If that’s what ya think but it’s my story and I'm sticking to it.”

“You are infuriating.”

“I'm sure several countries worth of police and every active bounty hunter and gun-fer-hire would agree with ya.”

“You know it's bullshit, I know it's bullshit--”

“Ah,” Jesse held up his left hand and then pointed, “Gonna stop ya right there, partner. You _think_ that I know it's bullshit, and ya _think_ that it's bullshit.”

A frustrated groan. “You are _lucky_ that I swore off _so many things_ , Jesse McCree.”

“Ouch, we're goin’ for full names now?”

“Oh, don't get me started, I will--”

“Ya won't.” Jesse dropped his voice dangerously. “Ya know there's shit yain't supposed t’ talk about and God help ya, ya do it now and ya guarantee that I walk when my arm's fixed.” His voice was barely a hiss.

“You're going to anyway!”

“I can't stay, Genji. It ain't that I don't want t’ stay. I do, but I got sixty million dollars sittin’ above my head. If I sit still, folks are gonna take notice and then I bring this shit down on y'all. Angie couldn't keep helpin’ people, Emily and Lena couldn't live a normal life, Rein would have people after 'im... I ain't walkin’ away because I _don’t_ care, Genji. I'm stayin’ away because I _do_ and I wouldn't wish my life on my worst enemy. Nevermind my own fuckin’ family.”

Genji deflated, “We could help you, Jess.”

“I’ve considered it already Genji, believe me. I’ve spent everyday since the Recall went out figurin’ out if there was a way I could. It just… ain't that simple.”

Genji fell silent after that, and Jesse settled back down, unable to truly sleep but still hoping he might catch even another hour. 

It didn't seem like long before Lena was calling out the approach to Gibraltar, and even less before the jet gave a shudder and a long groan as it powered down. He didn't blame it, given what Max had put it through. Might as well get moving. He pushed himself up as the others filed off the jet, all of them looking jet-lagged and weary. Given the circumstances, he didn't blame them. He wanted nothing more than to go crash in a bed and not wake up for a good couple days, at least. At least they didn't have to walk through the storm that seemed to have started up outside.

“Jesse.” Angela was waiting for him, “Could you follow me, please?”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

“I'll need to ask you some questions when we reach the medbay.”

“Pretty sure I could answer 'em in order, off the top of my head, on the way there.”

Angela gave a tired sigh, “That is not a good thing.”

“Is what it is, Ange.” He shrugged and then winced. He really ought to stop doing that.

The walk to the medbay was tense, tenser than he'd ever thought he'd be around Angela but one wrong move, or even a simple blood test would give him away. God, if she pulled his blood she'd probably know as soon as she looked at it. He swallowed, suddenly regretting the decision to come back. This was a bad idea. This was a _really_ bad idea. She was going to find out. His jaw set as he took deep breaths to try to stave off the tightness in his chest. Thankfully, Angela didn't seem to notice or if she did, she wasn't talking about it. He bit the inside of his cheek, staring at the ground until he'd managed to calm down a little.

He glanced up at the beeping of the electronic lock and the hiss of the hydraulics as the door opened. The smell of bleach and sanitizer made him wrinkle his nose. He never did like that smell and now it was damn near god awful.

“Have a seat, Jesse.”

“You got it, Doc.”

“I'm going to assume you are still smoking and drinking?”

“I mean, y'all _did_ catch me with a hangover.”

She gave him a withering look that he wasn't sure if she picked up from Ana, or was just a byproduct of being a doctor. “I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. You don't listen anyway.”

“Hey, that's unfair. I cut back. Yesterday was an exception cause it was a real special brand of fucked up.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he tilted his head with a wry smile, “Besides, if yer still drinkin’ coffee like ya used to, yain't got much room t’ talk.”

“Do as I _say_ , Jesse, not as I do.”

“Just sayin’. Yer settin' a bad example, Doc.”

“I'm suddenly reminded why I _didn't_ miss having you around.”

Jesse made a soft whimper and pouted his lower lip, “That hurts Ange,” he patted his chest with his metal hand and wincing as he did, “Hurts me right here.”

She groaned, waving him off, “ _Moving on._ Any other substance abuse I should know about?”

“Now c'mon Ange, ya know cigars and whiskey are my poison of choice.”

“I have not seen you in _seven_ years, Jesse, and given your current state, I have to ask.”

Jesse sighed with an almost bored tone as he answered, “No Ange, just the usual. On a bad day I smoke a cigar or two, otherwise I go a day or two before I smoke one. Drink more'n I oughta.”

“I see. How many times have you been drunk in the the last month?”

“Not sure you want that answer.”

She gave him a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “More or less than once a week?”

Jesse shifted his weight uncomfortably, “More.”

“More or less than once a day?”

“Less.”

She sighed again and shook her head, “Alcoholism _will_ kill you, Jesse.”

“I mean, given that I wake up to guns in my face on at least a monthly occasion, and haven't slept quite right in at least six years, I think the alcohol is the least of my problems, Doc.”

“More reason you should stay here where, at the very least, you have Athena to report intruders!”

“I--”

“Jesse, I have watched you die on an operating table on at least four separate occasions, and this is quite possibly the worst condition I have ever seen you in.”

“I’ll think about it, Ange.” 

Besides a heavy sigh, she didn't push the subject further and Jesse was glad. He had a hard time saying no to them, but he couldn't just point out that staying here was as much a death sentence as leaving. Instead, it seemed she had decided to move on to a standard check-up and he relaxed, relieved to be past the awkward questions. Get the check-up, pass it, get his arm fixed and be up and out of here. He just needed to survive the next few days or so.

“Step over here please?” She asked, gesturing to the scale.

Oh, right. That was a thing. Ugh, he really didn't want to see what it had to say, especially since he _knew_ that he'd put on weight. He glanced down then back up, “Ya want me t’ drop the body armor?”

“No.” She glanced back at him, “I don't want you moving that arm any more than necessary.”

“Aight, you got it.” Seemed weird to him but at least he could blame the weight on his arm, and the armor, and everything else if he didn't like the number...

He didn't like the number. As soon as he stepped on the scale and the display stopped shifting between a few tenths of a kilogram, he hated it. He was _definitely_ going to pretend that was mostly the metal.

Angela hummed softly to herself as she wrote it down and then rapped her knuckles against the armor, “Look on the bright side, Jesse, at least you'll lose a few stone the next time you see me.”

“Probably not nearly as many as I'd like, but I'm gonna pretend it ain't near as bad as the scale says it is because I'm wearing type four body armor.”

She snorted and it almost looked as if she had something sarcastic to say about that but thought better of it and gestured to where he'd been sitting with a chuckle, “Have a seat, Jesse.”

“Up, down, up, down. Jesus, Doc, ya might have t’ reweigh me before this is over.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her blood pressure cuff, “Can you remove your boot and roll up your pants leg without moving your arm?”

“Boot, yes.” He chuckled as he kicked his boot off with his other foot, “Jeans? Well, we're gonna find out.” His mechanical hand was great for punching things, holding on to high speed trains, crushing gun barrels but it was _not_ good at little fiddly tasks. Apparently, something as dumb as rolling up his pants leg was one of such 'fiddly tasks’ and after a few failed attempts, he gave a frustrated growl and rolled his eyes. “That's gonna be a no.”

Angela nodded and turned to retrieve a set of gloves from the wall near the door, pulling them on as she returned and then rolled up his pants leg.

Now, blood pressure cuffs had always been the weirdest feeling to Jesse, and that was when they were on his arm. Around his calf was weirder still, and he wasn't sure he was a fan but he sat there, still and quiet like he was supposed to because he didn't want to mess up the reading.

At least, until she shifted it, measured and then shifted it again. That was when he started getting nervous. A few more shifts and he was pretty sure his blood pressure was high enough now to read without the cuff. “Somethin’ the matter, Doc? Yer kinda fidgety.”

“Nothing to worry about, Jesse. Calf readings are always odd,” she waved him off as she headed for the door.

“Well that's good… I think.”

“It's really nothing, Jesse. I'll be right back.”

He watched her leave and raised his eyebrows, “Yeah, and the _last_ time you told me something was nothing and left the room, I _distinctly_ remember it being _something_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's certainly something Jesse.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!  
> This chapter contains descriptions of needles and blood being drawn! The most descriptive is a small section shortly after _"Most of the time."_ and was written in such a way that for the most part, skipping past to the ---- won't cause you to lose much.

Honestly, it _was_ nothing. Calf blood pressures were notorious for being odd, though usually they were high, not low. Strange, but not too concerning, yet. Angela slipped out of the room Jesse was in and into another, pulling the thigh cuff that they only had because Reinhardt's arms were the size of a typical adult's thighs from a shelf.

She held it up with a smile as she returned, “I just wanted a more accurate reading.”

“Oh. Well, then. Do yer thing, Doc.”

She rolled the pants leg back down, settling the cuff with the arrow facing the back of his knee while humming softly to herself. Now she'd get a good clean-- Huh. That was… odd. Perhaps the jeans were throwing the reading off. That had to be it.

She shifted the cuff, making sure this time that the arrow was in the right place and slipping her stethoscope under his pants leg and against the inside of his knee.

The result came back the same as before. The _exact_ same. She glanced up, “Jesse, have you been experiencing any light-headedness, or perhaps floaters in your vision?”

“Nope. Besides the arm, I've felt fine. Why? What's up?”

“Your blood pressure is a bit low. Could be because of your arm, but if you're not dizzy, then it'll be fine.” She unstrapped the cuff as she spoke, placing the cuff on the a nearby counter to be put up later and reaching into a cabinet, “It could also be dehydration. You _were_ in the desert and your drinking habits likely didn't help. Have you had any water since?”

“Uhhhh...no.”

“I see. Well, since you can't drink more water,” she fished out a 18 gauge IV along with the thermometer that she had originally went for. “I guess I'll need to make sure you--”

“Hey, no need for that, just pass me a water bottle. A lot of shit happened in the last couple hours. I usually drink plenty of water.”

She gave him a withering look, “Really, Jesse McCree, because I have substantial evidence to the contrary.”

“I'm pretty sure that evidence is rigged given that ya got a lot more shit from when I was injured than not. I'm from _the desert_ , d'ya really think I'm gonna go and kill myself from dehydration?”

“From where I'm standing you certainly seem to be doing a fantastic job of it.”

“Come on now, that ain't fair.”

“Why? Because you decided to have a fight with a pack of wild animals? Or is it because you decided to do that and then go celebrate with half a bottle of whiskey? Or maybe--”

“I _get it_.”

“ _Do you?_ Do you _really?_ Because  _honestly_ , Jesse, you have always been careless about you own life and I've yet to see any evidence that you've changed! In fact, I'm quite certain you've gotten _worse._ ”

Jesse scowled and she was pretty sure that under the brim of his hat, his eyes were narrowed into angry little slits, like usual when she scolded him. She gave him a smile and then handed him the thermometer. “You know the drill. While you do that, I'll go get you a bottle of water.”

The cowboy grumbled but stuck the thermometer under his tongue, shifting it a second before he was still. He almost looked like a petulant child. She shook her head and then headed for her office to retrieve a bottle of water from the miniature fridge beneath her desk.

“Thing beeped.” Jesse muttered as soon as she had stepped through the door. _Definitely_ petulant child. Of course, this _was_ Jesse McCree, so she didn't know why she expected otherwise. She passed him the water as she took the thermometer, looked it over and then back at Jesse before snatching the water from his hand despite his protest and handing the thermometer back.

“Doc, yer actin’ real fuckin’ shifty…” He grumbled as he stuck the thermometer back in his mouth.

“I am being _thorough_ , Jesse. Unless you _want_ me to diagnose you on assumptions and false data?”

Another grumble.

A few moments later, the thermometer beeped almost cheerfully, and once again she traded him the water bottle for the thermometer, listening to him mutter  something sarcastic about actually getting to drink it this time and then open it with his teeth and start chugging it.

“First of all, _yes_ Jesse, you can drink the water this time. Second of all, don't drink so fast,” she glanced down at the thermometer. Still a low-grade fever. “You'll make yourself sick.”

“ _Yes, Doc._ Anything _else_ ya wanna harp on me for?”

“Now that you mention it, _yes_. At your age you should be--”

“It's called _sarcasm_ , Doc.”

Angela huffed at him and then started going over her notes again. Low blood pressure, low-grade fever that had risen the second time she checked-- Angela gently placed her fingers to Jesse's wrist while she checked her watch. This close it became rather apparently that Jesse was breathing abnormally quick, especially for his heart rate to be so low. She jotted the numbers down, and tapped her pen against the tablet for a moment before looking up, tapping again as she thought on it and then stowing her pen away. Her mind was racing. There were a couple possible reasons for those numbers and none of them good. She needed to run more tests, and that didn't even count the rabies test.

“I'm going to run a couple of labs…”

“Great, Angie with needles, my _favorite_.”

“Hush, you. I need to ensure that your immune system is reacting to that bite and that your electrolytes are still with safe levels after…” She looked up from her notes again, “How long in the desert?”

“I was drinkin’ water while I was in the desert, thank ya.”

“Water does not have electrolytes, Jesse. You _know_ this.”

“I'm not _dyin’_ , Ange.”

It took everything in her power not to give him the most disbelieving look she could muster, but doing so would give away her thoughts and she didn't want to do that yet. No sense worrying him if it turned out to be nothing. 

He winced as he held out his arm, head tilting up only slightly, “Do what ya gotta, Doc.”

She gave him a slight smile and set to work, gathering up the required tubes and taking care to be gentle with his arm as she applied the tourniquet. She gently pressed into the crease of his elbow with her middle finger, humming to herself again. She practically knew where his veins were by heart, but given that he was dehydrated and his arm was already injured, she'd rather know for sure.

For the most part, Jesse was quiet with his head tilted down again and, if she had to guess, eyes closed. His mouth was drawn into a slight grimace, the only sign that he was in pain. His pain tolerance worried her more often than not, if she was honest. She wiped at the area, cleaning away bits of dried blood and grime that he'd been too drunk to worry about or just hadn't bothered because of the state of his arm. He hissed when she got too close to the edge of one of the bites but didn't move besides that.

“I'm sorry Jesse, I'll work on your arm soon.”

“I know ya will, Doc. For all the shit I give ya, yer good t’ me…” he chuckled, “An’ for all the shit ya give me, I missed ya.”

“Careful, keep talking like that and I might think the blood loss is getting to your head.”

“Christ Doc, can't even be nice t’ ya. Yer so mean t’ me.”

“Perhaps you'd find my disposition sunnier if you weren't half-dead every time I saw you.”

“It ain't _every_ time. Just sometimes.”

“ _Most_ of the time.”

Jesse huffed, mouth quirking to one side in a half-smile as she worked. The smile faded as she inserted the needle, but as usual, he didn't fuss. Angela held it in place and glanced down, noting the blood in the window and then slipping the green tube into the hub, puncturing the top. When it was done filling, she replaced it with the lavender tube and let it fill. Normally, she be mixing the first one while the second filled but she didn't have time before it was finished.She pulled the tourniquet and removed the needle, engaging the safety to retract the needle so it could be disposed of and then pressed a bit of gauze to his arm with one hand. She gently mixed the blood in each of the tubes almost absentmindedly as she removed her fingers from the gauze, wordlessly passing it off to Jesse. It was strange seeing the metal fingers replace hers, and she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him in the years since he'd left.

“Suppose you'll be headed out t’ go test those?”

She nodded, “I'll be back shortly. I still need to x-ray your arm and then there's the rabies test still.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't remind me.”

\---

“Winston?”

There was a startled noise, a few crashes, and the scientist appeared on screen, clearing his throat nervously.

“Ah! Hello, Doctor Zeigler!”

“Can I talk to you? It's about Jesse.”

“Of course. Is something wrong?”

She glanced back as the hematology machine spit out a slide, the holoscreen attached to it popping up to report what the machine had deemed as ‘not quite right’. Even from here she could see the little red flags on the hematology machine's screen. “One moment, Winston,” she sighed tiredly as she walked towards the holoscreen. _'What now?’_

The blood on-screen was… odd. Grainy with too many white blood cells. It almost felt familiar but she couldn't put her finger on _why._ Out of sheer curiosity, she grabbed three tubes, and three disposable pipettes.

“Dr. Zeigler?”

“Just a moment Winston, something just came up.” 

Jesse McCree, type O negative. Universal donor prone to feats of supreme idiocy that often left him in intensive care and in need of a blood transfusion, because of course, the man that could _only_ receive his own blood type was the one that needed it most often. 

Angela marked all the tubes with the test she'd be putting in them, then sucked up blood from the lavender tube into each of the pipettes. She deposited it into the three tubes, retrieved the type test formulas and then carefully sucked up a drop of each and placed them into the appropriate tubes. She mixed them one by one by sucking up the blood and solution into the pipette and squirting it back into the tube several times before pulling the green tube from the centrifuge and replacing it with the three type tests. With a sigh, Angela absentmindedly keyed in thirty seconds and turned to go set the green tube on the line and wait. 

Winston seemed to have returned to his work, judging by the shuffling on the other end of the call. She turned her attention back to the centrifuge, watching the time tick down until finally, it slowed and then stopped. She removed them and fished her magnifying glass out to inspect them.

AB positive? That couldn't be right. Jesse was definitely _not_ a universal receiver. Something must have contaminated the tests. She let out a sigh of frustration and turned to go get four vials. She hadn't needed a control since she was in school, but leave it to Jesse to make her life harder.

A few short minutes later, and the test was still showing AB positive. She almost didn't want to see what the line had to say.

“Winston?”

 _Crash!_ “Yes, Doctor Zeigler?”

“You know how we always joked about Jesse having the weirdest lab results?”

“Yes?”

“I have a new one for you. According to the labs, he is now AB positive.”

“AB-- But he was--”

“O negative.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, I ran the test twice. The second time with a control. All antibodies have caused agglutination.”

“Wha-”

“On top of that…” she tossed her hand towards the holoscreen as she got up to go retrieve the results from the line, “His blood doesn't look right,” Her eyes swept down the results, continuing to talk, “His vitals were completely--” _'Wait.’_ Her eyes flicked back up to the top of the readout.  

Normal. Completely and perfectly normal. A clean bill of health, like blood she'd expect to come out of a young athlete maybe, except Jesse wasn't a young athlete. If she _didn't_ count the blood loss, dehydration, incredibly weird vitals had her suspecting septic shock, or the completely impossible switch from type O negative to type AB positive, that still left a chain-smoking alcoholic who did not take care of himself as well as he should or anywhere _near_ what this read out would suggest.

“Doctor Zeigler?”

“I'm sorry, Winston. Nothing is making any--” She swept back over to the holoscreen, staring at the strangely shaped cells and then back to the white blood cell count that she had ignored due to the slide. Too high to be human.

“Of course. That lying--”

She pulled the lavender tube from the hematology machine and crossed the room to a cabinet that had not been opened in years.

“Angela?”

“Just a minute, I need to test one more thing.”

Tucked away in a wooden box to the back was a small vial of silver dust. She frowned as she gently shook some into the tube of blood, and sure enough, it reacted with an angry hiss and then popped, as if someone had shoved it in a microwave. When the reaction settled, all that was left was the blackened inside of the glass and congealed, almost burnt-looking blood.

She took a deep breath and then returned to the screen where Winston sat, burying her face in her hands. No wonder Jesse had been acting so strangely. It all made sense. The irritable behavior, blatant lying and hiding his eyes. They were probably glowing, or, at the very least an amber color if she had to guess. “Well, he isn't in septic shock like his vitals suggested…”

“But?”

“But now it appears that I need to go have a very long talk with Jesse.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I'll talk to you soon and I'm sorry, I meant to discuss this with you more but...” 

“Jesse. Yes, I _know._ Good luck, Angela.”

“To talk to him? I'll need it.” 

\--- 

When she returned, Jesse appeared to be asleep, startling when the door closed behind her.

“Any good news, Doc?”

“Yes, actually.”

A smile broke on the cowboy's face, “Lay it on me.”

“You won't be needing a rabies test.”

“Oh. Why's that?”

Angela raised an eyebrow and then held out the lavender tube, “Do you know what this is?”

His head tilted up, but still not enough to see his eyes, “Looks like ya took a lighter to my blood, judging by the--”

Angela flipped the tube over, letting the clump of blood slowly slide down the tube to the opposite end with a gross squelch.

Jesse shuddered softly, a look of disgust crossing his face, “I'm gonna stick with ya took a lighter to my blood. Not sure why ya'd do that, but that's my final answer.”

Angela shook her head, letting him sit on the information. She knew that he knew of his 'condition’, and much like a mother with a stubborn child, she was waiting out the lie.

“So? Ya got anything from all those tests ya ran?”

“Oh, yes. _Plenty_.”

“Care t’ share?”

“Which part would you like first?”

“Good first, preferably.”

“Well. According to your bloodwork, you're looking very healthy.”

“See? Toldja ya didn't need--”

“Which is very strange given your current condition.”

“Ah.” He was starting to look nervous and his head had tilted down again.

If there was one thing Angela knew, it was that Jesse was smart. Even if he wasn't saying it, he probably had already figured out she knew.

“Do you know why I did so many tests, Jesse?”

“Because you know I don't like needles…”

“Ye- No! When I took your vitals earlier--”

“My blood pressure was low, ya said that.”

Angela gave him a long-suffering sigh, “Yes, along with rapid respiration, a low grade fever, and a low pulse.”

He suddenly seemed nervous again.

“In most cases, those symptoms would point to sepsis, which thankfully, you don't have.”

“That's… good.” He didn't seem convinced that this was good news at all and she thought she heard a snicker from… somewhere.

“However, when I tested your blood, do you know what I found?”

“Obviously somethin’ weird 'r else we wouldn't be havin’ this conversation…”

“Jesse, according to a type test, you changed blood types. Weird is an understatement.”

That one seemed to throw him off. His face screwed up as he mouthed a very confused, 'What?’ “Ya… wanna run that one by me again?”

“You changed blood types.”

“So...is that the type test blood?”

“No. _That_ is what happens when your blood comes into contact with silver, and considering that it reacted, that means that you're past the incubation period for lycanthropy and have been lying to me.”

The innocent act dropped almost as if a switch flipped and his lip curled up, “Yeah, cause telling _hunters_ that you're a werewolf is a great idea, Doc. We see how it went for all the _other_ werewolves that Overwatch killed.”

“You could have told _me_!”

“And then what?! Ya try t' break it gently t' everyone else that good ole Jesse McCree is not _only_ wanted internationally but now needs to be put on a goddamn  _hunter watchlist_ too?!"

“Jesse, I wouldn’t. You _know_ that.”

“Do I?”

Angela gritted her teeth and then let out a sigh, reminding herself that it wasn't Jesse's fault that he was lashing out. He had a very legitimate reason to be upset, even scared. “I won't. It is… technically a medical condition.” She gave him a weak smile, hoping he'd relax at least a little.

For the first time since she'd seen him, he looked up enough to show his eyes. If she didn't know that his eyes were brown, the almost amber color wouldn't have even seemed out of place. He was tense, but he wasn't protesting any further, so she gestured at his injured arm, “Shall we get started on your arm?”

“Sooner the better, gettin’ pretty tired of my right side achin’.” His tone was surly but, it seemed that the promise of her not divulging his condition had helped.

“Alright then, follow me. I need to do some X-rays.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would not have been possible without LadamaB who not only lended me valuable information, but helped me figure out plausible biological effects of lycanthropy when tested by human medical instruments. Fun Fact: Most of those vitals are normal dog vitals!
> 
> Also, Angela gets riled up when she's concerned.


	14. Chapter 14

It was morning before Angela was done with him. The X-rays had come back with no fractures, so she'd cleaned up his wounds and healed him up. Or at least as much as she could. His chest was healed up but--

He lifted his right arm, turning it over a couple of times and wiggling his fingers. It was covered in bandages, since the damage was more than Angie could heal in one session, and like always, it was sore. Even after working with Angela for the better part of twenty years, he still wasn't sure that forcing the body to regenerate like she did was good for it, but given that one of them had a medical doctorate and it wasn't him, he'd let her make those judgement calls. The wiggling sent twinges of pain up his arm but could move it and as long as he didn't put too much weight on it, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He'd just have to be gentle with it.

The rest of the visit had actually gone smoother after Angela found out about his condition and other than making Jesse promise that he would stay and get some rest, she'd dropped the subject about him joining Overwatch again. It seemed she understood his reasons now.

He was on his way to go see Winston about a place to sleep until his arm was healed and he couldn't help but think that it was odd to see the halls so empty. His stomach growled, grumpily twisting to protest his lack of eating. He turned toward the kitchen with a chuckle to himself. Winston could wait until after food.

_“What kinda idiot do you have to be to think that Angela Zeigler wouldn't find you out?”_

_'Here we go again.’_ “Can't blame a man for hopin'. How was I supposed t’ know my _everythin’_ was screwy?”

 _“How were-- Your everything has_ **_always_ ** _been screwy, ya dumb hick!”_

“Better than a crazy Yank that--” he paused, just barely catching the sound of a door opening, or rather, the sound of the storm outside getting louder for a brief minute and then muffled again. His eyes narrowed and it took him a moment before he heard slight taps on the floor. His eyes fell on the cheating son of a bitch that he'd had the utter misfortune to meet in New Mexico and he growled before he could stop himself. If the archer had noticed him, he sure wasn't showing it, and Jesse wasn't sure if that pissed him off more or not. It looked like he'd been caught outside in the storm but the way his arm shimmered almost made him wonder if that hadn't been on purpose. The archer slipped on past as if he was doing his best to not be noticed and unaware of the two sets of eyes on him. When he'd disappeared down the hall, Jesse shook his head and sighed. Great. That made _two_ people here that knew what he was. He trusted Angie but that archer? Hell, the bastard couldn't even fight clean. He was going to be trouble. Even more reason to get out of here quick.

\---

Jesse’s stomach had started grumbling regularly by the time he made it to the kitchen, and damn if he wasn’t starving by the time he’d raided the fridge for ingredients to make breakfast burritos. The fact that he’d found _any_ peppers in the kitchen at all was surprising, but it seemed someone else liked to have them around and Jesse couldn’t have been more pleased. Hell, there was even a jar of chipotles in adobo. He almost felt bad using them. Almost. He'd replace them before he left. He passed by the pasta roller on the counter, snorting that it was still here after all this time. He brushed aside unopened spices that he didn't need to reach those he would. He wished he had some green chiles, but he'd make do with the dried peppers that were here. Another raid through the fridge produced a rainbow of bell peppers and he grinned. It wasn't green chiles but he was always happy to dice up any bell peppers he could get his hands on.

His stomach growled again as he started scrubbing down the potatoes quickly, making sure they were nice and clean before dicing them up and setting them aside. Next up was the garlic, onions, and peppers, which were also set aside until he had everything ready. He turned, eyes flicking up to the long sheets of lasagna noodles hanging up and then lighting up. Lasagna night! With a slight bounce in his step, he returned to the task at hand. He needed to get the sauce going soon and then the--

He yelped as someone pinched his ass, jumping nearly out of his skin and spinning with Peacekeeper drawn, “Goddamnit Genji, I swear t--” His barrel met empty air, and the revolver fell slack as Jesse's eyes traveled down to find icy blue hair. “Max? What in God's name?”

“Huh. It's still firm.” The tiny hacker was looking down at his hand, as if pleasantly surprised.

“Ya goddamn menace, the hell ya doin' here?”

Max made a pinching gesture, “Testing the goods, clearly.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, “That don't answer my question.”

Max gestured at the eggs and diced up peppers as if it should have been obvious, "I'm hungry, asshole. Why else would I be here other than to fondle yer ass--which ya make real easy with them assless chaps, by the way--and eat yer cookin'? Still convinced youse got some crack yer dusting in it. Eggs got no business bein' that delicious."

Jesse rolled his eyes, grumbling as he holstered his gun and reached for the adobo, pouring the sauce off into one bowl and setting it aside and then dicing some of the chipotles up. ‘ _Ya always got a reason fer showin’ up. Just gotta figure it out.’_ Max didn't just 'show up’ if he was hiding. There had to be something else. How did he even get on base? Wait no, wrong question. How _long_ had he been on base? Fuck it, he'd find out later. Normally, if he were just cooking for himself, he would have probably licked the sauce off his fingers and went about his way but instead, he washed them, dried them and then sighed as he started on the potatoes. “Hadn't planned on cookin' fer two but, yer here so…” He shrugged and turned to brush the potatoes with olive oil before he seasoned them and stuck them in the oven. They would take the longest. “Ya want bacon in yours or chorizo? I’m makin’ both.”

“Both.”

“Aight…” He paused for a moment, thoughts returning to Max's presence, “So how’d ya get in here ya lil sh--” The words slipped before he could stop them, “Ya know what? I don’t think I need t’ ask. Just can’t believe it didn't click when I saw the damn lasagna hanging.”

"Where youse thinkin that pasta had t' come from? Ah? What, ya think Genji just miraculously learned to cook? There is a lot of strange shit going on with that boy but magic pasta ain't part of it."

Jesse shook his head, a small smile curling at the edge of his lips but he didn’t answer. Honestly, it hadn’t seemed out of place at first. Years of seeing lasagna hanging to dry, fresh eggplant and balls of fresh mozzarella in the fridge, Swiss Miss and fennel in the cabinet had made it all too normal. It seemed weird to think of them not there, even though they shouldn’t have been.

"'Sides, I'd cut ya more slack if it'd been a spaghetti or some shit youse could confuse with yakisoba but that is a motherfucking lasagna noodle. Who else could it possibly be?"

“Didn’t think about it. Seemed like it oughta be there like always. Only thing that crossed my mind seein’ it was lasagna night.

“Aw, _Jesse…”_ Max wrapped his arms around Jesse's waist with a smarmy grin. “Ya missed me.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow with a grin and rolled his eyes as he gestured at Max and then to the scattered breakfast ingredients. “Says the man that came out of hiding for _breakfast burritos_. Now get off, yank, if ya want chorizo I gotta get these chilis soakin’.”

Max let out a little noise that sounded suspiciously like a ‘tch’ as he shoved himself away from Jesse, wrinkling his nose, “You smell like sweat anyway, and _not_ in the good way.”

Jesse scoffed, putting a hand to his chest as if the hacker had hurt his feelings, “Look, I had every intention of showerin’ in the mornin’. Then _someone_ decided t’ try t’ drown me instead.”

“Yer fuckin’ welcome, hick.”  
  
“Kiss my ass, Yank.”   
  
“Ya looked like shit and now at least youse is clean… sorta.”   
  
Jesse responded with a middle finger over the shoulder as he headed to go get the chilis ready.   
  
“You _wish_ ,” Max retorted, and Jesse was pretty sure that the hacker was returning the gesture. Just like the old days. Well, sort of. There was a noticeable lack of rooibos in the cabinet and the can of Café Bustelo on the counter next to an obnoxiously large can of Folgers Dark Roast was gone, replaced by some fancy brand name he didn’t recognize. The grin dropped for a moment as he stripped the seeds from the chilis and set them to soak. Even though he heard Max approach, he still jumped a little when the hacker put a hand just below where the armor didn’t cover just above the middle of his back. Jesse was still for only a second before he relaxed again. Max always seemed to notice when his mood sobered, although it wasn't like he was hiding it today. 

Max rubbed the spot for just a moment before pulling away again and there was the sound of footsteps retreating and the fridge opening. Jesse looked back, ready to crack a joke about the hacker being impatient because they didn't talk about why the other suddenly sobered up. Ever. Maybe that had always been their problem. Instead, he found Max pulling out all-too-familiar ingredients. “Makin’ dinner _and_ dessert?” He chuckled halfheartedly, “D’ya miss cookin’ fer an army?”

Max paused, smiling down at the marscapone, “Yeah.” He went back to fussing with the ingredients, “Missed the army too.”

“You 'n me both. These days most of 'em are Talon.”

“I know…” The conversation took a turn as Max sighed softly, glancing up, “They're after me, Jess.”

Jesse paused, but he couldn't say he was surprised. “Yeah, me too. They want t’ fix me up like they did Amelie.”

Max paused, frowning, “They almost had me.”

Jesse opened his mouth to say he'd had some close calls, but shut it when Max turned around and looked him square in the eyes. They had faced down some wild shit, but it was rare to see Max actually look scared by it.

“O'Deorain set off her emergency beacon.”

Jesse paled. He hadn't known Moira was one of them. The grunts and Amelie, sure, but Moira? Shit. If Moira had her way it wouldn't be just like Amelie. It would be worse.

“We had never been particularly close 'r nothin’ but we'ze was a _team._ She was _one of us._ Well, she used to be.”

Jesse shook his head, leaning on the counter to wait on the chilis so he could start the chorizo. Blackwatch had never been made up of the best individuals, but shit, he always figured they were better than _Talon_ . _‘Guess it shows us what kinda people we were trustin’ t’ watch our backs, huh?’_

“If I'da figured it out 20 seconds later, we'd be havin’ this conversation with your ass strapped to a gurney.”

Jesse opened his mouth to joke that it wouldn't be the first time he'd been strapped to something but couldn't get the words out fast enough.

“ _Twenty seconds,_ Jess. That's how close they got.”

Jesse sighed and shook his head, “I know how that feels, believe me. Been playing the last seven years by ear and sometimes, the only reason I got out alive was pushin’ buttons I ought not've.”

"I've gotten real up close and personal with the dead half of me once or twice. It's the only good thing my pops ever did for me."

Jesse gave a humorless bark of laughter, if it could even be considered a laugh, and shook his head. He absentmindedly checked on the chilis, sighed and returned to where he was leaning on the counter.

\----

Jesse had finally gotten the chilis soft enough to throw into a blender with half of the onion, garlic, and some spices, splashing in water and apple cider vinegar until it was a nice thick paste. He looked down at his hands. Shit. Raw pork and pepper was not something he wanted to get inside his left hand.

“Ey, Max. Can I borrow yer hands fer a sec?”

"Normally I'd make ya buy me drinks first but at least ya made me a meal this time."

Jesse rolled his eyes, gave a snort and then tried not to lose his composure as he spoke. “Well, I mean, ya know I don't just go askin’ folks to handle my meat without at least makin’ em breakfast.”

“Cuz yer momma raised you right.... what happened?”

Jesse cackled as Max washed his hands. “Ya know, I'd do it myself but,” he wiggled his metal fingers, “Don't fancy things getting stuck in moving parts.”

“I thought you liked ya meat stuck in tight moving parts... I mean, it's never stopped ya before.”

Jesse choked and smacked his hand against his chest a couple times.  
  
“I win,” Max cooed, grinning like a cheshire cat.   
  
Jesse flipped him off, shoved him gently, and then turned to check on the potatoes. The only good thing about having a metal hand was not having to worry about burning himself as he took a hot pan out of the oven. He dropped it on the stovetop, popped one of the small cubes in his mouth and, satisfied that they were done, pushed them back to cool.   
  
“Ya ‘bout done over there?”   
  
"Just because you finished first doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself."

Jesse put his hand over his chest with a whimper, “Now damn, Max, that's low. How ya gonna do me that way?”

Max grinned as he blew a kiss over one chorizo-caked hand, “Aw hick, don't go havin' a midlife crisis over there. Ya know I don't mean it.”

Jesse gave another fake whimper and pouted just a few seconds longer before losing his composure and chuckling. He guessed he could start the eggs and bacon, Max would be done by the time he had finished sauteing the onions, garlic and peppers.

The potatoes were pulled from the stove and set on pot holders on the counter, bacon went on a back burner and the rest of his vegetables were dropped in a pan in front of him with just a little bit of oil.

“How ya like yer bacon? I… I kinda forgot.”

“Crispy.”

The tone made Jesse look up and over his shoulder, but Max was staring down at the chorizo, mixing it with his hands. Jesse frowned, turning back to the vegetables with his head hung. When had he forgotten that? Now that Max had said it, he remembered how everyone liked their bacon. He stared at the sizzling skillet as the onions started to turn translucent, pushing them around like a dejected child pushing food around a plate instead of eating.

“Jess, yer burnin' the bacon. What's the matter witchu? This ain't like youse.”

Jesse looked up, mouth opening for a second and then a litany of curses fell from his mouth. How long had he been staring at the vegetables? His eyes flicked up but he didn't even remember the time it had been before so it wasn't like it did him much good. “Shit, I dunno. Might just be tired 'r… somethin’.” He ran his fingers through his hair like he always did when he was stressed. With a exasperated noise, he tossed the burnt slivers of bacon in the trash and moved the vegetables to a cool burner so he could wash out the burnt bacon grease.

"D' you need me to finish it? Sit down 'r somethin', Jess. I can do it.” Max was suddenly at his side, trying to get the pan out of his hands, “Let me have that. Sit down at the table and I'll finish it for youse."

Jesse half-heartedly protested, and then gave in, slinking over to the table and slumping in a chair and leaning forward on his arms. There was no sense in arguing Max, especially when the little shit got worried and started mother-in-law.

"When's the last time you slept?” Max was already washing the chorizo off his hands and laying bacon in the pan to fry.

Jesse opened his mouth but was cut off before he could get an answer out.

“No, I mean it. Really slept, Jess. None of that twitchy shit either. When is the last time you slept well without being drunk?”

“Yer guess is probably about as good as mine.”

The pans scraped a bit as Max moved them around and Jesse's eyes flicked up to see the hacker scooping chorizo into another skillet and then he looked back down, resting his forehead on his arm.

"Well we'ze is about ta fix that. Last thing I need is t' have yer jumpy ass pullin' a gun on somebody who don't know you won't use it like I do.”

Jesse looked up to see a wooden spoon being brandished at him. Where the hell had Max even gotten that?

“So youse is gonna eat, I'mma spirit your ass away and then youse is gonna sleep. Capisce?"

“Yeah yeah. I was workin’ on that, ya know.”

“--and imma help you work a little fastah.”

Jesse chuckled and shook his head. There was never any point in arguing with Max. Besides, Jesse was tired and didn't have the mental capacity to keep up a battle of wits. “Don't forget t’ add milk t’ the eggs when ya whisk 'em. Makes ‘em fluffy. Tortillas are easier t’ roll if ya warm 'em. Once ya get the burritos rolled, you’ll wanna toss em in a pan for a couple minutes on each side.”

“Ya really think I don't know how to make your burritos after twenty years of watching you do it?”

Jesse shrugged and decided that silence was probably his better option. Maybe a nap too.

\----

The nap didn't seem to last nearly long enough. Almost as soon as Jesse had closed his eyes, it seemed like Max was waking him with strokes through his hair. He lifted his head groggily as a plate was set in front of him, eyes flicking up for a moment and then pushed himself up. The smell managed to get him moving, at least enough to start working on the first burrito. As he ate, it managed to get his head working and he ate a bit more ravenously.

His eyes flicked to the door, suddenly realizing that there was a marked absence of a certain cyborg ninja that should have been there this entire time.

“So, ‘m guessin’ Genji don't know then?” He gestured a hand at Max.

“Course not.” Max gave him a look over his burrito, “He'd tell the monkey and we can't have that.”

“Yeah, guess Winston would be a problem, huh?”

“Ya think? But it's notta problem. He's too busy with his test tubes to notice what's going on right under his big nose.”

Jesse chuckled and shook his head, “I mean no one ever noticed us. Was kinda our job.”

Max gave him an eyebrow raise, looking him up and down with his lips pursed, “Me. That was my job. Youse was bait. That's why you wore the spurs.”

“Now hold on, ya know I wear 'em cause I don't fancy gettin’ shot by twitchier motherfuckers than me.”

_“Right. Of course you do.”_

Jesse gave him a look and then rolled his eyes, “ _Anyways. So_ how long ya been here? Ya look pretty set up…” He gestured with his head at the lasagna, and then chuckled.

Max smirked, “Long enough t' put Athena back in her kennel. She won't be a problem anymore.”

Jesse laughed and shook his head, “Why ya gotta do her like that? I like the ole girl.”

“Of course _you_ do, she likes you. She was always a pain in _my_ ass.”

“Have ya tried bein’ nicer t’ her?”

“Nope,” Max shook his head around a mouthful of burrito, “Not plannin' to neither. The day I'm sweet to an AI is the day I've lost my fucking marbles and need to be put down.”

Jesse snorted, “Don’ talk with yer mouth full, Yank. Jesus.”

"You never complained before."  
  
Jesse rolled his eyes, “Yer terrible.”   
  
“I know,” Max cooed back, “You love it, don’t lie.”   
  
Jesse chuckled as he took another bite, eyes wandering for a minute and then flicking to the door. He’d thought he heard something, “So I saw a couple folks on the jet I didn’t recognize.”   
  
“You don’t-- Do you just not pay attention to anything?”

“Ya know that I ain’t got the time t’ sit watchin’ a screen all day, ya shit.”

"All youse'd need t' to is sneeze near a mall to see their faces pasted on everything. How do you not know them?"

“When's the last time you saw me near a mall? I'm goin’ on 40. I don't belong 'round one, can't blend in.”

"That's yer own fuckin' fault--” Max huffed, with a roll of his eyes before conceding reluctantly, “...and youse got a point. Frog boy is a famous dj with healing music and rabbit girl is a gamer that strapped into a mech to save her country from an omnic in the sea."

Jesse gave an interested noise and took another bite, eyes wandering back to the door. He _swore_ he heard something out there. “So they’re hirin’ celebrities now? Guess it’s better’n criminals.” He grinned as he elbowed Max and laughed.

"Phht, I was always a celebrity... just not t' the gen pop."

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Jesse grinned and the his eyes shifted back to the door. Okay, he couldn't be crazy. He _knew_ he heard something and the smile fell, eyes returning to Max as he gestured at the door with his head, eyebrows raised. ‘Someone’s listenin’ in,’ he mouthed. No one should be up yet. Everyone on the jet had gone to bed, and the archer had been headed for the quarters too. Whoever was listening in wasn’t supposed to be there.

There was a slight nod as Max rose, and the hacker glanced at the door. “Ya know, I was thinkin’ I make pizza for lunch. The deep-dish kind. You know, the kind with the pineapples.”

Jesse snorted. Max would never be caught dead making a deep-dish pineapple pizza but you’d have to know him to know that,“Ain’t no one gonna have room for dinner if ya go and cook lunch too.”

The hacker was advancing on the door and Jesse wasn’t far behind, walking slow to muffle his spurs. He hadn’t drawn his gun yet but Max had what almost looked like a derringer in his hand, but there was no slide or hammer. Laser maybe? Wouldn’t surprise him. Jesse put one hand on his gun, the other on Max’s shoulder and sliding past to listen for a second before opening the door, pulling his gun to find no one there. His eyes scanned the cafeteria. There had been someone here though. He could smell them. Like sandalwood and… something else-- salt definitely, but he couldn’t put his finger on the other. It was a weird smell though. He looked around again before turning back to Max. He holstered his gun and shook his head, “Whoever was here, they caught on ‘n booked it.”“Do you think they know I'm here?”

“Well if they didn't before they're gonna if we don't do something.”

"Shit. Well this is gonna make things more difficult than they have to be. Help me dump the evidence."

Jesse made a disappointed noise. Dumping the evidence meant no lasagna or tiramisu tonight. “I was afraid ya were gonna say that. All that hard work…” He shook his head as he turned to head back into the kitchen. “Let's just get this over with.”

"If you hurry, we can at least get drunk on the wine."

"Ah, Ange wouldn't like that…” Jesse chuckled, “C'mon, let's do it."

“Atta boy! That's the spirit!”


	15. Chapter 15

Hanzo turned on his heel, having heard all he needed. They were planning something. Why else would a man who had managed to evade being found for years, much less being in the same location when someone showed up suddenly not only show up, but remain in the same location despite the multiple reports of his presence? Something wasn’t right. Why would he let himself be found?

Then there was the subject of the other man...

“Athena?” He had to know what they were doing. Would she even respond?

“Yes, Agent Hanzo?”

“Who is currently on base?”

“Besides yourself, Agents Tracer, Mercy, Reinhardt, D.Va, Lucio, and Genji Shimada are all in their quarters. Winston is in his lab and former agent McCree is in the kitchen.”

He frowned. Athena couldn't see him. There was an intruder on base and she couldn’t even see him. How many others could they get on base unseen? How many others were on base right now? He glanced around, shoulders tensing as if he were being watched. There was something very wrong going on and McCree was the distraction He had to be a distraction. It didn't make sense any other way. That, of course, begged the question why. What reason did they have? Talon?

“Do you require anything else, Agent Hanzo?”

“No. Thank you, Athena.”

“You seem troubled. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I don't think so.”

She didn't answer him after that and he continued on his way to Genji's quarters. Genji knew McCree and the suspicious blue-haired man knew Genji.

\----

Genji didn't answer the door. Not after the first knock, or the second or third. It seemed _some_ things hadn’t changed. He growled as he rested his forehead on the doorframe, above the keypad. Was he asleep? Did cyborgs sleep? Did Genji? He supposed it was possible. He pulled back, knocking again. This time, the lock disengaged and it slid open with a hiss.

“Hanzo?” Genji had his visor off, as well as most of the external armor, leaving only the pieces that had to be rebuilt remaining. He was in an over-sized tee-shirt, hair fluffy and sticking up in all directions and he did look groggy. “It’s-- do you even know what _time_ it is?” 

“It’s shortly before five a.m.”  
  
“Yes. _It is_ .” Genji didn’t seem pleased about being woken up, not that Hanzo cared because McCree was a problem and Genji needed to know.   
  
“I need to talk to you.”   
  
“Oh, of _course you do._ ”

“Genji--”

“So I'm Genji now? Or am I still just ‘a thing pretending to be Genji’?”

Hanzo winced and shifted his weight, rubbing his ankle with the side of his foot. He regretted those words, but what could he do? He'd already said them. He couldn’t just take them back, even if he had started to see more and more of his brother in the cyborg. In some ways, Hanzo saw everything he’d been holding onto in his memories, in others, this man was nothing like his brother. He wasn't nearly as quick to burst into violence, and he seemed to be letting go of grudges easier...

“So what do you want?” Genji snapped.

“May I come in?” He still needed to warn Genji.

Genji sighed and stepped aside, “Fine.” Once Hanzo was inside, Genji gestured impatiently, “Well? What's so important you _had_ to wake me up?”

“I think McCree is up to something and I came to warn you.”

Genji deadpanned at him and it was immediately obvious it would be hard to convince the cyborg that his best friend was trying to bring Overwatch down from the inside.

  
“I heard him talking to someone in the kitchen, and--”   
  
Genji’s phone buzzed, once at first and then a few more times.

Hanzo opened his mouth to continue but Genji didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. Instead, he had turned to go retrieve it and was staring at whatever it had to say. Whatever it was, he seemed concerned.

“Something wrong?”   
  
No answer.   
  
“Genji?”   
  
“You said Jess was talking to someone?”   
  
“Yes, I didn’t recognize him.”   
  
“What were they talking about?”   
  
“I’m not sure, McCree asked if you knew about something and his companion said you’d tell Winston, then called McCree bait. I think McCree is a distraction for something. They’ve already done something to Athena.”   
  
Genji frowned, and looked back at his phone, chewing his lip before flipping the phone around. Three messages from who he assumed was the same person that contacted Genji with the information in the first place. 

 

>   
>  >Is Jesse there?   
> >I haven’t heard from him since yesterday
> 
> >And now some crazy shit is happening
> 
> received 04:52 CEST (+2 GMT)

 

Genji frowned. “When we went to go get Jesse, I called in a favor from an old friend. He warned me to stay away from whoever this is.”  
  
Hanzo frowned, “How accurate do you believe your friend’s sources are?”   
  
“I trust him, he’s always known what he’s talking about… which is a problem, but I don’t think Jesse would--” Genji fidgetted, fumbling with his words.   
  
Hanzo held up his hand so he could think without all the stumbling over words. Genji gave him a sour look, but did quiet down. “It seems odd that he would just show up again though, doesn’t it?”   
  
“Well he shows up a lot, but staying in town… is weird.”

“And allowing himself to be caught?”  
  
“He was stalled.”   
  
Oh. Well that certainly changed things. “By who?”   
  
“The friend that told me where he was.”   
  
“A friend that wasn't even on the premises?”   
  
Genji shrugged noncommittally.   
  
“ You believe--” _‘A werewolf...’_ “Someone like him could be stalled by someone off-site without him being, in some way, complicit?”   
  
“I don’t know! Jess was pretty injured when we got there. Didn't have much movement in his arm and he was hungover. Max is good at stuff like that. Don’t ask me how, he just...is.”

Hanzo deadpanned at Genji, one eyebrow raising. He’d known his brother to be capable of some astounding levels of idiocy but this one might just take the cake.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that! Max is good at what--   
  
Hanzo held up his hand so that he didn’t end up burying his face in it.   
  
“So your friend, who was off-site, stalled McCree after he uncharacteristically stayed in town despite the dangers and now I find him talking to an unknown intruder who has made himself invisible to Athena and called McCree bait… and none of this seems odd to you?”   
  
“Some of it is but... I _trust_ Jesse and Max.”   
  
Genji was lying, or at least telling a half-truth.   
  
“They both came out of the kitchen with guns drawn, Genji.”   
  
“So they heard you? You’re losing your touch in your old age, Hanzo.”   
  
“I had to pick the lock.”

“Were you trying to smash it with a hammer?”  
  
Hanzo deadpanned at him, “Have you forgotten who taught you to pick a lock? You seem to have forgotten everything else--including your manners.”   
  
Genji stuck out his tongue, “At least I don’t have gray hair.”   
  
“Because you dye it!”   
  
“Jealousy is not a good look on anyone, Hanzo.”   
  
“Listen here, _gakimono_ ,” Hanzo hissed, “I still have the picture from your 19th birthday! Remember that one?”   
  
“You have a newfound fascination with the all things I remember... are you going senile, oji-san?”   
  
“Hardly. In fact, do your friends know? Maybe I should share, I think they would enjoy it.”   
  
“Go ahead, share it. I’ll just tell them about that time dad had to bail you out because you thought you were hot shit and talked out of your ass to--”   
  
“Enough, you know he was barely older than you were at the time!”

“And you tried to fix it by sleeping with him--”

“Genji!” By this point the little fucker was cackling. If Hanzo had any doubts that this obnoxious shithead was his brother, they were gone now. Hanzo shot him a withering glare, “We are off-topic.”

“Right… so after they caught you because you're old--”

Hanzo silenced him with a glare. “They came out of the kitchen, guns drawn. They intended to shoot whoever was eavesdropping and had it been someone else, they would have.”

Genji looked concerned, “Jesse is smart, he probably knows it was you.”

“They talked about destroying evidence and went back in the kitchen. His companion seemed very concerned about whether or not anyone knew he was there.”

Genji's face twisted, “What did you say he looked like?”

Hanzo frowned, “I didn't.”

Genji gestured for him to spit it out, suddenly fidgeting and glancing at the door.

“Short, shorter than McCree at least--”

“That's not saying a lot,” Genji mumbled with a snort.

“Don't interrupt. He had… very androgynous features and--

“Blue hair?”

Hanzo shot him a look, “Closer to white but yes.” 

Genji was suddenly up and scrambling for the door with a whimper that sounded almost like 'Lasagna night'.

“Genji!”

“Wha-- Oh! You don't need to worry, Hanzo. That was Max! I'm sorry," He bobbed at the waist, "I have to go!" Genji was halfway down the hall before he'd finished his sentence, "Shit, he's probably long-gone by now!”

Hanzo frowned, promptly deciding that his brother was still a naive fool and he would be keeping a very close eye on McCree until either the cowboy left, or proved to him otherwise that he could be trusted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get to release a chapter on my birthday :D!
> 
> I probably would have anyway lol


	16. Chapter 16

It was a travesty to have to get rid of so much good food and not get to eat it, but between the two of them, it was all gone and down the garbage chute in record time. That skill had been honed on much more morbid terms, but it was nice to know they hadn't lost their touch. Max had disappeared down one of the corridors, heading for what Jesse assumed was a Blackwatch tunnel. All of the bases had been littered with them. It was rare to even see Blackwatch in the halls back in the day. They had their own tunnels, hangar, everything. It wasn't until things went to hell that people began to notice them and even then, no one realized how big Blackwatch was until the end when everyone started getting court martialed or executed.

He sighed as he began cleaning up the mess he'd made making burritos, grimacing once or twice when his arm shot pain up into his shoulder. He couldn't wait for that to be over and done with. Maybe he'd swing by Angie's after he got some shuteye.

About halfway through cleaning up, the door swung open, banging against the wall harshly and the whir of robotic joints told him all he needed to know. He grinned, gesturing at the fridge without turning to face Genji. “Burrito fixings are in the fridge.”

“Where is he?”

“Pardon?”

“Don't play dumb, Jess. I know Max was here.”

“Well good mornin’ t’ you too, sunshine.”

“Jesse, I am not in the mood for-”  
  
“I dunno, Genji. Yer guess is as good as mine.”

Genji gave an exasperated sigh, “You have to stop sneaking around, Jess. My brother thinks you're up to something.”

“Come again?” _'His brother?!’_ “Ya got another brother ya failed t’ mention?”

“No.”

“Sonuva- Yer meaning t’ tell me y'all got that-”

“Jesse, enough! He's here because I want him to be.”

“I--” Jesse took a deep breath, “I ain't got anything nice t’ say so I'm gonna keep my mouth shut. Hope ya know what yer doing.”

“I do and if you lay a finger on him--”

“Lil late for that.”

“Damn it, Jesse!”

“To be fair, I didn't start that fight! We had a… disagreement in New Mexico. He's a cheatin’ sonuvabitch, ya know that right? I'm just lookin’ to settle the score.”

Genji dragged a hand down his face and gave him a reproachful look, “I'm going to go find Max, just do me a favor and stay away from Hanzo?”

“I won't go outta my way t’ find him but if we cross paths, I ain't makin’ any promises.”

Genji groaned, but seemed to realize that he was only wasting precious time arguing and pointed in Jesse’s direction. “We’re going to have a talk later, Jess.”  
  
“I’m headin’ t’ see Winston about a place t’ sleep, so don’t you worry. I’ll be out for at least a couple hours.”  
  
“Good. Maybe you’ll be less cranky.”

Jesse shot him a look as he left, shaking his head. He had every damn right to be testy. He hadn’t asked for everyone to come get him, but they had and now they were offended that he wasn’t a shining ray of happiness. Rather, Genji was offended, the others just seemed disappointed. Big surprise there. The sooner he was off this rock and back in the States the better.

  
\--- 

  
The walk to Winston’s lab wasn’t long, but it sure was quiet. Made the place feel like a ghost town, if you asked him. He rapped a couple times on the lab’s door, frowning when there was no answer. His eyes flicked to the keypad, wondering if his old codes still worked. Probably not. He looked up, knocking again and hearing shuffling this time. The door slid open to a tired Winston’s face and Jesse offered a sympathetic smile. “Got a second t’ chat?” 

Winston yawned and nodded, gesturing for him to come inside.

Jesse leaned on one of the counters after following the scientist inside. “Ange told me t’ see ya about a room.”

“Ah yes. Take your pick, Jesse. I'll make sure to try to get anything you need.”  
  
“Ya realize I’m probably not stayin’, right?”  
  
“Yes, well… I was hoping to change your mind, Jesse.”  
  
“Yer welcome t’ try, but I ain't makin’ promises.”

“Of course not, but we could use your expertise.”

“There’s a lot of sharpshooters in the world, Winston. Ya already got one on yer roster.”  
  
“Hanzo is a fine sniper, yes, but he does not know the things you know.”  
  
“Genji knows Blackwatch shit, ask him. I ain’t got nothin’ for ya that ya ain’t got here already.”  
  
Winston fell silent for a moment, clearing his throat quietly. “You’re probably aware that hunters are on the decline.”

Jesse’s face twisted at the sudden topic change, brows bunching together, “Yeah? We drove ourselves outta business. Freelancers get work here 'n there but it's almost easier to take jobs huntin’ down criminals. Makes this whole Recall business make no sense, if ya ask me.”

Winston shuffled to a display. “Then I'm sure it's no secret to you that Talon has gotten more bold recently.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. Believe me, big guy, I’ve had more’n a couple run-ins lately.” Talon was worse than police and bounty hunters combined at this point.

“This is a timeline of all reported attacks since Overwatch was disbanded.”

That was a nice word for it, not the one Jesse would use personally. However, he found a spot to sit near Winston. The scientist glanced over, snorting softly. Jesse tipped his hat down, “I know, I know. I need a shower. Workin’ on it, big guy.”

Winston shifted and cleared his throat, “Right. As I was saying, this is a timeline of all reported attacks.” Jesse’s head turned to watch the screen. One year, then two, then several passed. The first five were pretty normal, an attack here or there but otherwise consistent with his last few years in Blackwatch and the time he’d spent freelancing. The last year or so was a different story. Winston paused when the timeline reached six months prior. A cluster of attacks in the Middle East, Iraq if his memory served.

“This is when the problem started,” Winston mumbled, gesturing to the screen and resuming the playback. Slowly, the attacks began to creep outward, heading first up into Russia and then seeming to stop and head east, skirting certain areas, then dwindled and turned west, blossoming rapidly in Europe. When the attacks crossed the ocean into the Americas though, it became painfully obvious. They spread like wildfire-- no, like a _plague_ across North America.

“Now I'm going to overlay who handled them, if it was reported.”

As Jesse expected, the first several years were largely freelance. Hell, his face even showed up a few times and his eyes shifted to Winston with a raised eyebrow. Looked like someone was keeping tabs on him. His eyes returned to the screen, noting how rarely Talon showed up those first several years. The bullies had nothing to protect people from.

As the years went on though, the freelancers dwindled, and attacks were beginning to be handled by other faces. Helix, Volskaya, Vishkar began to step in. All things he knew, he’d had trouble getting freelance work in the last year or so because of them. Then, the plague started and spread, stalling out in Russia where Talon met the Volskaya front. East met Vishkar, stalled out and abruptly about-faced.  

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see what was happening. “Sonuvabitch--” He knew things were getting bad again, and that Talon was up to shit but not like this, “They’re profiteering.” 

"We think that... Talon used to be Blackwatch and…” Winston shuffled uncomfortably again, “We were hoping that you might be able to help us fight them.”

Jesse frowned. It was a tough call. If he stayed and his secret got out, it could mean a lot of trouble for him but, then again, if he didn’t then Talon could catch up to him, or even frame him. “I’ll tell ya fer sure a lotta folks from Blackwatch went t’ Talon. They were usin’ Blackwatch plays on the way t’ Houston. As for the rest, well, I ain’t got an answer for ya yet, Winston. I’ll sleep on it ‘n get back t’ ya.”

“Jesse, you know them better than anyone. You were one of Blackwatch’s officers.”  
  
“Yeah? Well, that goes both ways, big guy. They know me too, probably better than anyone else and they’ve been after me for a while. God help y’all if they get their hands on me..” Jesse wasn’t sure if Winston could pale but he certainly had the expression of someone whose color had drained from their face. “Just lemme sleep on it, aight, big guy? I’ll get back t’ ya once I got my head on straight.”

“Of course… my apologies.”

“No harm done, just won’t do none of us any good fer me t’ decide right now.”

“Take your time, and sleep well.”

“Thanks, Winston.” He wasn’t sure about the latter but well, he could keep that to himself.  


Jesse was pretty picky about where he ended up sleeping, finding a room close to one of the old Blackwatch tunnels and away from any entrances. The room was stale and musty, and smelled faintly of salt, much like everything else around here actually. He wasn’t sure there was any part of the base that didn’t smell of saltwater… or the other less pleasant smells that came with living on the coast. Back in the day, it hadn’t been uncommon for Blackwatch members that were in trouble to get assigned to cleaning the lower caves and tunnels where things tended to deposit half-eaten fish. Not that he’d know that from experience. He sighed as he started pulling plastic off the furniture. At least he didn’t have to worry about tunnel duty anymore if he stayed.

He managed to get through the room with only a few sneezing fits, tossing the plastic in a corner. He’d put it back later. If he stayed, he was going back to his room in Blackwatch and if he didn’t, well, it’d be rude to let the furniture get dusty.

He shed his armor and boots and locked the door, double checking it before he peeled the rest of his clothing off to go shower. He felt gross and-- fuck he didn’t have extra clothes. Well, actually, he might in his old room… if they'd even still fit. Ugh. He pulled his clothes back on, or at least the necessary ones and trudged down through the halls toward the Blackwatch rooms. If he was lucky he still had some pajamas or something tucked away.

Oddly, the name plate had never been removed from outside his door. Maybe there hadn't been time, or maybe they hoped he'd come back. He punched the code in, frowning when the keypad turned an angry red. His codes were toast. Sonuvabitch.

“Spectre?”

“Yes, Jesse? What can I do for you?”

It was almost weird to hear a voice so similar to Moira's respond so pleasantly. “Can you open my door for me? My codes ain't workin’.”

“I'm sorry, but unfortunately I can't. You could try to talk to Max? He’s in his room.”

“Aight, thanks darlin’, I will.”

“Of course, Jesse. Any time.”

 The good thing about the Blackwatch rooms was that they weren't too far apart and it didn't take long for Jesse to get to Max's door and knock on it. Part of him kind of wondered if he startled the hacker or if he already knew.  
  
Except, Max didn’t answer. In fact, there was no answer at all. With a puzzled expression, Jesse rapped again with his left hand and then waited. Nothing.  
  
“Spectre, ya sure-”  
  
The lock disengaged and the door slid open to reveal a groggy-looking Genji. Ah. Well that explained things. Maybe too many things. “See ya found ‘im.”  
  
“Yeah, no thanks to you.” Genji shot back with a snort.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Y’know how it is with secr- Wait, I forgot ya can’t keep secrets, never mind.”  
  
“Oh fuck off. What do you want?”  
  
“Need Max t’ get me in my room, my codes are wiped.”

“Oh, uhhh...” Genji glanced back and past the cyborg, Jesse could see a bundle of blankets ambling towards them. He was grumbling under his breath, something unintelligible and by the sounds of it, probably Italian. With a final huff, the hacker leaned heavily on Genji and glanced up.

Jesse offered him a sheepish smile. Even though Max had woken him up pretty rudely earlier, Jesse wasn’t out for revenge. Lord knew the hacker probably needed his sleep too. “Won’t be long, just need in fer a change of clothes.”

“It's 22092069.”

Jesse grinned, amounting the surly tone to Max being unhappy about being woken up and then ran his hand through his hair. “Thanks. I'll let ya get back t’ sleep, sorry fer botherin’ ya.”

Something in the way Max grumbled incoherently at him as he turned made him pause but the door was already sliding shut by the time he turned back to question it. Well, he'd hear it sooner or later. No sense fussing about it now when everyone needed to sleep and get their heads screwed on straight.

His room was exactly as he left it, well at least, it seemed to be. He wished he could say the dust was new, but this room was always dusty because Jesse was rarely here, even when they stayed in Gibraltar.

He glanced at his old black hat, resting on his dented and scuffed armor. His old boots sat by the door and he knew if he looked, his Blackwatch suit would still be in the closet. The only thing that had changed was where his old gun sat. The original pistol he had carried, now-defunct from long years of use and abuse, was mounted on the wall by the door.

He didn't remember putting it there. Or… well, maybe he did. Shit. He frowned as he started rummaging through drawers, looking for something to wear. It seemed weird that they hadn't cleaned out his room. Maybe Max had something to do with it. Or maybe they just forgot that he had a room on this base with all that was going on. He pulled out a shirt and held it up to his torso before snorting derisively. There was no way in hell that was going to fit now. It probably had barely fit seven years ago.

An hour and several swears that he was laying off the cheap food and whiskey later, Jesse had managed to find his old sick leave clothes, which largely consisted of loose cotton button-downs and sweats. They had originally been for when he was injured and didn't want or need tight clothing pressed up against tender wounds, but were now being repurposed.

Jesse paused as he headed for the door, glancing back at the bathroom and then deciding whatever soap or body wash he'd had in there was probably not fit to be used and kept walking. Probably wasn't a good idea to stay here too long. He locked the room with the same code, wondering why the numbers felt familiar. It'd probably hit him later and wake him up. That was always how those things went.

 

\---

 

Surprisingly, the significance of the number didn't wake him up but rather, came to Jesse while he was showering, sending him into a litany of curses. 2069. He dragged his hand down his face, hissing at the motion. No wonder Max had been grumpy when he just shrugged it off. Shit. That one was going to go over well later. He groaned as he leaned his forehead against the tiled wall and shut off the water.  
  
He had to resist the urge to shake the water from his hair and instead pulled a towel from the rack to roughly scrub at his scalp. It felt nice to get the tangles and dirt out, and once he had gotten some sleep and trusted himself not to nick himself, he could get his beard trimmed up. Sleep, shave, medbay. Seemed like a solid plan. Sleep would probably help his mood too. The shower had already done wonders… minus the realization that he had kind of shrugged off the code locking up his room being the day he left. He wasn't sure how to explain that one.

That would have to be something he figured out later, after he had gotten some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops sorry for the late chapter guys, had a weird day yesterday.


	17. Chapter 17

Genji may have trusted the two men, but Hanzo didn't. Genji had always trusted too blindly and it had gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion. Like usual, Hanzo was being forced to swoop in and save the idiot from himself. So, rather than go to sleep like he should have, or go about his day as usual as he probably would have, Hanzo decided to do some reading. McCree's files were, for the most part, unchanged. It seemed Winston, or perhaps Dr. Zeigler, had tacked on a note about his cybernetics but there was little else. A quick check with Athena told him that McCree was in Winston's lab, speaking to the scientist. Not around this… Max that Genji seemed so fond of. Good.

 

Several hours, and a few searches around corners of the web that most people had only heard of from Hollywood, had not produced much more on McCree. Besides a few aliases that others seemed to suspect were him, McCree had precious little information left that Hanzo didn’t already know-- formerly Deadlock, formerly Blackwatch, the ability to shoot a dozen men in a matter of seconds with a six-shooter and a reputation for disappearing into thin air…

This 'Max', on the other hand, was the cyberspace equivalent of the boogieman. He could be linked with ease to a smokescreen of urban myths and legends that were so on the cusp of being believable that they might have even been true, and if they were, it was all the more reason for Hanzo to worry.

Ghost. A prolific hacker, double-crosser and information dealer that had disappeared one day in a proverbial puff of smoke. After 15 years of silence, and being presumed dead, it turned out he had been under their noses the entire time and that made Hanzo all the more suspicious. People like him didn’t just stop. It was a high they never stopped chasing. Perhaps he’d been caught when he was employed to Blackwatch and forced to give up that particular identity? It was no secret that Blackwatch employed high-profile criminals, his own brother and McCree were proof enough of that but why trust a traitor?

_ ‘Genji was a traitor too,’  _ a voice whispered,  _ ‘He sold the clan out to Overwatch.’  _ Hanzo shook the thought away, but it wasn’t wrong, and if the rumors were true, McCree was also a traitor who sold out to Blackwatch to escape a long prison sentence. Now, it seemed they were scheming again but leaving Genji out of the loop. Perhaps because of his time in Nepal? They seemed to suspect Genji would tell Winston which likely meant they intended to harm others on the base.

 

Hanzo sighed as he leaned on his arm, scrolling through the holoscreen. He needed to find proof that Ghost was still operating and both he and McCree were a danger to the others. He jumped from site-to-site, absentmindedly flicking through posts and comments that were obviously from children that had stumbled into the wrong place, mixed in with the usual crowd of assorted morally-questionable individuals. There were a few that he recognized, people he’d bought from or sold his services to. It seemed like someone was looking to take out ‘Shrike’ again but even Hanzo hadn’t touched that. Not once in the seven previous times someone had wanted Shrike dead had Hanzo even considered touching that job with a ten foot pole. He already knew someone would take it, die and then the job would appear again. He scrolled past with a scoff and sighed again. The text was beginning to blur together into a monotonous wall of job offers and those seeking work and… other services.

Wait.   
  
He scrolled back up, eye catching on very familiar formatting. It was from someone calling themselves Antidote, auctioning off government secrets. His eyes narrowed. Sure, there were plenty of people that sold information, but something about this seemed too familiar. He checked the location of McCree again, sighing with relief when Athena informed him that McCree was in one of the empty rooms, asleep.

He returned his attention to Antidote. It could be a coincidence, but Hanzo highly doubted it. He’d done business with Ghost in the past, looking to ruin one of the other clans without risking any of his men. Well, at the time, they’d been his father’s men but that was not important. He scribbled a note to the side and sat up, leaning towards the tablet as he started searching for others peddling information. Few showed up as often as Antidote, but they also seemed suspicious enough to warrant being scribbled on his list. Some were crossed out almost as soon as he’d written them down, for various reasons. This one was too new, that one hadn’t posted anything new in the last five years… everything pointed back to Antidote, and yet, he could find very little outside of the auction posts and those weren’t much. He sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose and closed his internet windows. He wouldn’t get any further, but someone else might.    
  


The phone went to voicemail three times before Hanzo nearly gave up and rolled his eyes. Leave it to an American to be-- His phone lit up with a returned call, happily repeating the default ringtone until he answered. In the background, there was the hissing of metal being cooled.    
  
_ “Hanzo? What the fuck man, it's 4 in the morning!” _

“And you are still at work?”

_ “Oh uh...yeah. Was on a roll and didn't want to stop. Deadline's in a couple weeks. Want to make sure I can test everything first.” _

Hanzo shook his head.

A door shut and there was the sound of office chair wheels scraping and a squeak as the man on the other end of the phone flopped into it with a grunt,  _ “So what’s this about then, Hanzo? You never call me just to have a friendly chat… You  _ **_should_ ** _ by the way.” _

“I have no need to.” Hanzo glanced at his list again, “I need you to look someone up.”   
  
_ “Course you do.”  _ The chair squeaked again,  _ “You never call me unless you need something. I should just tip someone off where you are and get you out of my hair. You’re a pain in the ass and I’m pretty sure there’s a dozen people who’d like to know.”  _ He was tapping a pen now, by the sound of it, “... _ wonder who’d pay highest? Russia, maybe? Nah-- too busy with those omnics… Maybe someone in Japan...I’m sure you’re  _ **_very_ ** _ popular there.” _ _   
_ _   
_ Hanzo chuckled, amused that he was being threatened by this man, of all people, “We both know you won’t, Aerin. I know where you live, where you work, where your family is--”   
  
_ “Mhm.”  _ He punctuated the words with a smack of his lips, _ “Good luck with the mechs… and for the last time, its  _ **_Tech_ ** _ , not Aerin. Not to  _ **_you_ ** _.” _ _   
_ __   
Hanzo ignored the protest, even if he intended to respect it, “You say that like they’d be a problem.”

_ “For you?” _ Tech laughed, _ “Nah, just a distraction.”  _

 

Hanzo chuckled along. Aerin Hammond, formerly known as the hacker TechSmith, was now a robotics specialist that earned his money building and programming custom robots for people with too much money and nothing better to do with it. He had quit hacking after a scare that had put him and Hanzo in contact, but if you could pique his interest, he’d go back to his roots and look anyone up. Other hackers seemed to be a special interest of his.   
  
“ _ So, who is it?” _ _   
_ _   
_ Hanzo paused, thinking on it. Should he ask Tech to go looking into McCree more? Probably not. The programmer’s attention didn’t last long and the chance he’d find nothing else on the man was too high to waste valuable time. “I’m looking for where Ghost went.”   
  
__ “Ghost? Shit. You’re kidding. Not to be that guy, but didn’t think chasing dead men-- or...women, was your thing.”

Hanzo groaned at the terrible play on words, “I don’t think he’s dead.”   
  
_ “He? You’re holding out on me…” _ _   
_ _   
_ Hanzo’s head lolled back as he rolled his eyes. “I have reason to believe I saw him this morning.”   
  
__ “Oooh, and you’re on that old shut down Overwatch base right? Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what you know and I’ll get whatever I can.”

 

Hanzo didn’t respond to the poke about his location, even if he knew that Tech was well aware of where he was, he wasn’t going to admit it. “I’m looking into him because he’s known for selling secrets and I caught him conspiring with someone else that does not belong on this base. I will not let him hurt Genji.”

_ “Riiight. I forgot you got back in touch. How's that going by the way?” _

“Fine.” Hanzo gritted out.

Tech gave a disbelieving hum. _ “So anyways, you have anything else or am I doing all the footwork?” _ _   
_ __   
“I’m sending you a list of known information dealers that could be Ghost.”   


_ “Now you're just spoiling me.” _

“I could keep it.”

_ “Nah, I'm good with just cutting to the chase.” _

 

Hanzo considered making him work for it anyway, but decided that the waste of time wasn't worth it just to see the pain in the ass suffer and sent him the list anyway.

_ “There are some serious names on here, Hanzo. If this shit gets some asshole after me, you better be there to clean it up.” _ _   
_ _   
_ “Yes, yes. I know.”   
  
_ “I mean it. If something happens to anyone around me, I  _ **_will_ ** __ turn you in.”

“I know. I didn't help you find your family just to get them killed.”

The line was silent for a moment and then there was the telltale squawk of Tech's chair protesting his movement.  _ “Alright, but I'm not doing this from any IP near me. Give me an hour, I'll call you back.” _

 

\----

 

It was closer to three hours when the phone rang again, but given that McCree was still sleeping and Tech was likely just being cautious, Hanzo tried not to be abrupt when he answered the phone.

Luckily for Hanzo, Tech was talking before he had even opened his mouth.  _ “Alright, so lucky for me, a couple hours gets me out of my state. Was just gonna go a couple cities over but that seemed too close for comfort. Especially if one of these guys  _ **_is_ ** _ Ghost. Can tell you off the bat it's not Paragon, they're young. The overcautious and scared of everything kind of young. I...may have done business with him in the past to get my hands on some schematics.” _

Hanzo chuckled. “Why am I not surprised?”

_ “Shut up. Sometimes people want parts that people like me can’t buy. So I buy the schematics and I build them…” _ _   
_

Hanzo rolled his eyes.

_ “You can also cross out Shellshock. I know him personally and he's too young to be Ghost. The rest of these guys? They mean business. Enough so that even a state over, I'm covering my tracks. With any luck, they'll go on a wild goose chase before they get close. Not using Axum either. It'll make my job harder, but at least it'll slow them down... hopefully.” _

Hanzo tried not to sigh through Tech's nervous rambling. Hanzo was asking him to put his family on the line to look into dangerous people, but he needed this information so he could prove to Genji that at least one of the men he called 'friends’ weren't who they said they were.

 

However, it turned out that ‘not using Axum’ translated into a couple hours worth of nervous rambling, keyboard clattering and some colorful cursing. After the first thirty minutes, Hanzo patience had already worn thin. He had muted Tech a couple times, but apparently the hacker-turned-programmer had taken notice and grumped at him for it. So now Hanzo was suffering through the pointless chattering, scratching names off when Tech took a break from talking about nothing to actually point out that this name or that was not Ghost and listing off a reason why.

They were finally down to the last two, Antidote and another that just seemed to go by Chap. Hanzo could not have been more relieved.

_ “You know, I don’t have a good feeling about this. The more I get through this list, the less I like getting close to that Antidote guy. Something don’t feel right.” _ _   
_ _   
_ “I just need you to confirm that he’s Ghost. That’s all.” _   
_ _   
_ __ “That’s all, he says. You realize that’s like someone asking me if Saito Itsuki is you? Do you even realize how much shit I’ll be in if this guy comes after me? Dude, people like me disappear messing with people like him.”

“You’ll be fine.” _   
_ _   
_ __ “Right, of course. Thanks for the pep talk. Why was I  **ever** worried?”

“Tech, the sooner you get this done, the sooner you can go home and forget about it.” _   
_ _   
_ Tech scoffed,  __ “Yeah...forget about it. Right. Because this isn’t going to have me watching my back for the next five years.”

“Tech.” _   
_ _   
_ __ “Yeah, yeah. I’m going,”  Tech grumbled, something else added under his breath that Hanzo couldn’t quite make out and suspected wasn’t even English before the quick clatter of keys resumed.

 

After a few moments of just typing, Hanzo leaned back and closed his eyes. Staying up all night hadn’t done him any favors. Maybe just a few--

 

_ “It’s not Chap. He plants quotes in his coding comments and it looks like he targets corrupt governments.” _

Hanzo’s eyes snapped open as Tech mumbled a few words, picking out something about knowledge and cynicism. “So, that leaves Antidote,” he murmured. _  
_ _  
_ _“Maybe. There’s a chance that none of these guys are Ghost, Hanzo.”_ _  
_ _  
_“I doubt that.” __  


_ “I wish you didn't.” _

“One more, Tech.” Hanzo reminded him.

_ “You owe me big time after this.” _

“That's fine, but I need this evidence so that I can protect my brother.”   


Tech sighed heavily and then the typing resumed, though slower. Hanzo should have narrowed the list down further. He was losing Tech's interest, or rather, the man's self-preservation was overriding whatever interest he had in the subject.

_ “Antidote definitely started working around the time Ghost disappeared.” _

Hanzo hummed softly. That was promising.

_ “Man, this guy's got some serious money flowing in. Have you seen what some of his auctions go for?” _

“Yes.”

_ “No wonder he didn't get out of the business…but you already know this stuff so, gimme a sec.” _

‘A sec’ was actually closer to thirty minutes, but judging by the huffs and cursing, Hanzo didn't complain. If Antidote was Ghost, it likely wasn't easy to get past his security.

_ “God, this code is fucking full of traps. Looks like his old coding style though. He always--” _

_ Ding! _

Hanzo frowned as the computer on Tech's end chimed and the hacker took a shaky breath.

_ “Shit.”  _ Then, much quieter, as if Hanzo wasn't supposed to hear, a much higher and excited,  _ “Holy shit!” _

“What?” What was he excited about?

Tech cleared his throat, voice level again when he spoke,  _ “He-- uh, he noticed. I must have tripped something. I thought I was being careful enough but without Axum, it's a lot harder to weave through the traps. _

“Then why didn't you bring it?”

_ “And leave my fingerprints all over everyone's stuff? Hell no.” _

_ Ding Ding! _

Hanzo frowned, “What is that?”

_“That is the sound of him trying to talk to me.”_ His voice pitched up at the end, as if he were excited about that. Hanzo couldn't fathom why but he didn't have time to ask. There was rustling and Tech's voice getting further away. _“Give me a sec--”_

The sound of the call ending echoed in Hanzo's ears and he frowned, staring at it. Why did he manage to get all the weird contacts? 

 

Several minutes passed and Tech hadn't called him back yet. As much as he hated to admit it, that worried him. He didn't have enough information on Ghost to know what he was capable of, besides the obvious.

Ten minutes in, he was pacing, waiting for a call. By the twenty minute mark, he was calling Tech's phone, only for it to go to voicemail. He frowned and turned back to his tablet, typing as quickly as he could. Tech had gotten caught and now there was no telling how much trouble he was in. Hanzo went digging into files, looking for any indication of what Ghost might do. Tech was scared for a reason and he had no phone--

A ghost trailed across the screen of his tablet, laughing as it disappeared. He paused for a moment and then his comm lit up.

 

> >WHAT DID YOU DO?
> 
> >EVERYTHING WAS FINE
> 
> Received 17:50
> 
>  

A second later, his comm was ringing with Tech’s call. Hanzo sighed in relief as he answered. “Tech? What happened? Are you alright?”   
  
It wasn’t Tech that answered. _ “You think you’re real cute, don’tcha?” _

Hanzo opened his mouth to demand that this Ghost or Max or whatever the fuck he wanted to call himself come face him, but the line went dead only a second later.

He cursed. His comm wasn't even functioning properly now. Despite relying on satellites for signal, it apparently had no signal. He growled, slipping down into the subharmonic rumbles that few humans could even touch. He tossed the useless thing away, not noticing that his tablet had turned garbled, the holoscreen jittering before it fizzled out. Hanzo dropped it with a hiss as it smoked and popped and then burst into flames. Or rather, the power source did and quickly consumed the thin, almost flimsy holoprojector, leaving a twisted, charred hunk of metal on the floor where it had landed.

Hanzo's nose wrinkled in disgust. “Athena?”

No answer.

“Athena.”

Still nothing.

Hanzo growled again, shook his head and stormed from the room. He needed a new comm and then he needed to talk to Winston about their uninvited guest. Winston was usually out of his lab around this time, socializing with the others. Hanzo passed the lab, briefly glancing in to see if the scientist had changed his routine but to no avail. No matter, Hanzo still needed a new comm regardless of whether or not he spoke to Winston now or later.

The electronics storage held more than just comms, though Hanzo wasn't interested in the other contents. He opened the first box, shuffling through the contents and then sighed. Old models, which box had Winston--

The whole room was suddenly doused in red, warning alarms blaring too loud for his sensitive ears. What now?! He cursed, tossing the box aside and sending the old comms skittering across the floor. Where were they?!

 

_ Tap. Jingle. Tap. Jangle. Tap. Jingle. Click. _

 

The room exploded into light and sound at the bark of a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surplus chapter because I managed to get ahead of my buffer! Hope you guys enjoy! Ch 18 will be coming out on time this Friday~
> 
> Kinda curious if anyone can guess the quote imbedded in Chap's coding that Tech mumbled C;


	18. Chapter 18

The high whine of a bullet ricocheting off metal met Jesse's ears and he dropped to the floor. If the intruder returned fire he wasn't looking to get shot. He rubbed his forearm with a hiss. It still wasn't taking too kindly to sharp impacts like recoil from a revolver big enough to punch a hole manticore armor. 

A figure rushed him from where his shot had gone just a little wide and he rolled, dodging a drop kick and spinning on the way up to catch a fist. The impact made him step back, but the grunt from the intruder made it clear that punching metal hadn't been pleasant for him.  Peacekeeper clattered to the floor only seconds later, knocked out of his hand by a quick strike to his shoulder and then was kicked aside.

Jesse snarled as he finally got a good look at the 'intruder.’ Hanzo Shimada. Not exactly an intruder but still a suspicious motherfucker. One that Jesse didn't mind beating a little bloody, either. He still had a score to settle.  They grappled for a moment, trying to find a weakness in the other, to little avail. Jesse’s metal hand didn’t give and Hanzo was able to hold his ground a lot more than those delicate looking ankles would have suggested. 

Hanzo moved first, tensing and then arching suddenly.

Jesse shoved himself away from the knee aimed for his abdomen, cursing softly as it put him slightly off balance.

The archer hissed something as he stumbled back, mostly unintelligible over the blaring sirens but Jesse managed to pick out traitor. His face contorted in confusion but didn't have time to dwell on it. Hanzo closed the distance between them quickly. Jesse couldn't help but to be reminded of a snake. Quick and fluid but tense. Ready to strike at the bat of an eye. The first blow snapped out like lightning, aimed at his jaw.

Jesse raised his arms, but the blow never connected. At least not there. Pain blossomed from his left side, by his ribs. He grunted and huffed out a breath. Definitely a snake, but not a rattler. Not enough warning. The punch had left Hanzo crouched, if only for a second. Jesse slammed his knee up, catching the man in the chest and delighting in the solid ‘ _Hwoof!’_ of breath rushing out. He locked his fingers together, and brought his hands over his head.

Hanzo grunted, staggering on his feet and then shimmered, just like in New Mexico. He reappeared several feet away, coughing as he regained his breath.

Jesse stumbled off-balance as his hands met empty air, forcing him into a roll to keep himself from falling.

Hanzo slammed into Jesse almost the second he was on his feet, shoving him into a wall with his hands bunched in the cowboy's shirt. “Who are you working for?!”

The question caught Jesse off-guard. He fell slack for a moment, brows scrunched together, “Pardon?”

“Do not play stupid with me, cowboy. This innocent act may work on the others but it will not work on me.” Hanzo drug him closer, lip curled.

“The fuck kinda nonsense--”

“Who do you work for?!” The archer roared in his face, fists tightening as he slammed Jesse back again.

Jesse grunted and then frowned as he collected himself. He grabbed Hanzo's wrists, shoving his thumbs into the pressure points on the underside until the archer was forced to give up his grip.

He sidestepped, dragging Hanzo forward into the wall, pulling one arm behind the archer's back. He shoved his left hand into Hanzo's shoulder blades, pulling on the other arm as if he were going to try to break it but didn't pull hard enough. “Dunno what ya got in yer head but I ain't workin’ fer no one.”

Hanzo growled, struggling in the grip, “I am not blind, cowboy. You are scheming and unlike the others, I will not allow it to continue!”

Jesse hissed, teeth gritting to avoid crying out as Hanzo kicked backward into his knee. The archer's heel struck just below the kneecap and scraped down his shin. His leg buckled under him, already weakened from an old break. He scrambled for grip, falling face-first into Hanzo's back.

 

The archer shoved them both away from the wall, sending Jesse toppling backwards and into a sideways roll as a kick followed.

Jesse's face contorted in agony as he dodged another incoming kick, and then another. And another. He was lucky that the kick had missed his kneecap but it still hurt like hell. Hanzo was practically chasing him down as he dodged out of reach.  _ 'Grin and bear it, McCree. On your feet.’  _ He dodged once more behind a row of racks, pulling himself up on them. His leg was barely holding him up but it'd have to.

Hanzo wasn't far behind, but apparently hadn't expected a wild swing and jumped back. 

Jesse tested his leg again. It was holding better. It'd have to do. He took a step forward, gritting his teeth as pain shot straight up into his hip and almost made his leg buckle again.

Hanzo was advancing again, but this time Jesse didn't swing blind. The archer backed away from a feigned low left hook aimed at the archer's side, dropping his arms to deflect the blow but Jesse twisted suddenly into a jab to the jaw, catching Hanzo off-guard.  ‘ _Cheating sonuvabitch.’_ “Ya wanna play? Let's fuckin’ play.”

The blow knocked Hanzo down and seemed to stun him for a moment, but Jesse didn't back down. He hauled the archer up by his shirt, calling on strength he had refused to use before.  “I wasn't happy with ya after New Mexico, but I woulda settled for an even fight. But ya had t’ go 'n be a goddamn cheat again.” He shoved him backwards with a growl, “I told ya once, I ain't workin’ fer no one. I ain't fuckin’ schemin’ and if you  _ ever  _ so much as  _ imply  _ that I'm a goddamn traitor again, I'll make ya regret the day you were born, got it?”

Hanzo sneered, a teeth reddened by blood from the jab, “I do not have to imply what your history already shows.” 

Jesse saw red. It was Morrison all over again. He snarled, snapping out blow after blow at the archer. Hanzo dodged or defected most, but Jesse scored a few good hits to the archer's ribs and abdomen.

Shock crossed the archer's face when his back hit a wall. He barely ducked a blow from Jesse's left hand that dented the metal where he had just been, responding with his own flurry of punches to Jesse's sides and ribs. The blows were desperate, harder and less organized.

Jesse pulled back for another blow with his left hand, right fisted in the fabric of Hanzo's shirt...thing. He used to know what those were called. Off-topic. Focus on the fight. The distraction was enough. Hanzo ducked away as Jesse opened his mouth to tell him to yield. Admit he'd lost. About the same time, Jesse's feet suddenly left the ground and he was yanked backward. The 'yield' turned to an undignified yelp, stumbling as he was bodily dragged from the room.

“What do you think you are doing, Jesse?!” Reinhardt's voice boomed at him as soon as they were in the hall.

“Now, Rein, it ain't--”

“It’s not what, Jesse?”

His words failed him under the disappointed gaze of the usually gentle and cheery giant.

“You are not even a current member! You are a  _ guest! You _ can not just--” Reinhardt buried his face in his hands with an exasperated groan, “Follow me. We will talk about this elsewhere.”

“Now, I really don't think--” Talking about this elsewhere meant a lecture, and Jesse wasn't up for that.

“ _ Move _ , Jesse.”

On second thought-- “Yessir.”

 

\----

 

“What were you  _ thinking? _ ”

“Well, y'see--”

“We allowed you to stay on base despite your refusal to return because you were injured and we could trust you!” Jesse ducked his head as Rein gestured at the door, “You can not just attack--”

“I ain’t refused yet. I’m just not sure I’m ready for this rodeo again. Not sure if y’all need the bad mojo that seems t’ follow me. And I didn't attack him! At least not him specifically… Ain’t like I went there lookin' to fight  _ him.  _ Athena said there was an intruder in the electronics storage and I was nearby.”

“And yet you did not disengage?”

“Well--”

Reinhardt's eyebrow raised and Jesse suddenly felt like he was six again, his father exasperatedly questioning him why Jesse had thought taking his father's pistol without asking was a good plan. His dad had let him off the hook without telling his ma, and it had stayed their little secret.

“We got a history… it ain't just--”

“If you are referring to Genji--”

“No! I mean-- Shit. I mean, that ain't the main thing. Bad as that sounds, I got my own personal bone t’ pick with that--”

“Jesse…”

“Aight, fine. I'll put it nicely. We had a run-in before I got here. Everything was fine til he went and insulted me. All I did was ask him if he was workin’ freelance ‘r not and he goes poppin’ off at the mouth. So I challenged him to a fair fight. Man-t’-man. Y’know the kind Rein.”

“I do…” Reinhardt conceded, mumbling as if he didn’t want to admit it.

“He agreed and then pulled some kinda ninja bullshit and cheats. I was just settlin’ the score at first. That’s why I didn’t stop when I realized who it was.”

Reinhardt sighed, “That does not explain why when I pulled you off of him, you were trying to hit him with,” he gestured to Jesse’s left arm and Jesse tucked it back, suddenly self-conscious of attention being brought to it.

“There’s a story behind that too.” Jesse rubbed the side of his knee with a grimace, “He kicked my bad knee. Started fightin’ real dirty, so...I did too. I wasn't gonna hit 'im Rein. I was about t' tell 'im to admit he'd lost. Wasn't out t' kill. Just wanted t' settle the score.”

“Jesse. That’s not how--”

"Lemme finish. I know it ain’t right. Y'ain't supposed t' answer fightin' dirty with more of it. I let my temper get outta control when he had the gall t’ call me a traitor 'n then he almost breaks my knee again.” Jesse rubbed his arm. Hitting that metal wall may not have been one of his better ideas. “I may have hit him a little harder'n I meant to a couple times, but wasn't ever gonna actually hit him with my left hand. I mean, maybe if he wasn't human but--”

Reinhardt pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I didn't even hit 'im hard 'til he went on about that traitor bit. Just scuffed ‘im up a little.”

“Jesse, please. Just--” Reinhardt gave him a beleaguered look.

Jesse knew that look. That was a 'Jesse, just stop talking' look. He looked down at his hands in his lap. “You got it, Rein. I’m listening.”

“Jesse. We talked about this when you were young. I shouldn’t  _ have _ to tell you this again. Especially since you’ve acknowledged that you know it wasn’t right.” “Rein, ya can’t tell me ya’ve never lost yer temper.”   
  
“You have always had a problem with your temper though, Jesse. I have not.”

“Don't give me that shit, Rein.” He shook his head even as Reinhardt gave him an insulted look, "I know my temper, I get loud. I get ornery, but I know better than t' go kill someone over it. And if we wanna talk about what happened in that storeroom, again, he started it. I finished it, and then y'all are all sittin' around like I'm being the bad guy for gettin' upset. The fuck d'y'all want from me?!" Fuck, speaking of tempers. Jesse groaned, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. “M’sorry. Didn’ mean t’ raise my voice. I just-- y’all don’ seem t’ get it. Y’all got this-- I dunno. This idea of me… This idea that nothin' ever gets t' me. Nothin' bothers me. That I ain't got my own damn problems. That I'm just this happy-go-lucky guy. 'N I'm happy t' be like that, I wish it was true. But I lose my temper. I get angry. I have issues but it don't mean I'm gonna go killin’ someone. Don't mean I'm gonna be the stupid punk from 20 years ago. I grew up, but sometimes I just get pushed too far and some people just know all the right buttons to press.” At this point, he wasn't sure which of them he was trying to convince, Reinhardt, or himself.

 

The giant was quiet for a moment and then sighed. Jesse nearly jumped out of his skin when Reinhardt patted his shoulder, "I am sorry, Jesse. I can't imagine that your time away has been easy.  
  
Jesse gave a quiet, half-hearted chuckle. "I wish I could tell ya you were wrong, Rein. Really do."

“Perhaps staying here will do you some good, Jesse.”

“Y'all keep sayin’ that but… I dunno. I  _ did _ sleep better, though. Least 'til someone went and managed to trigger the intruder alarm. Not gonna name any names there.”

Reinhardt shoved him gently but Jesse still ended up toppled over. 

Jesse righted himself and retaliated. “Git outta here, you,” he chuckled, smacking Reinhardt with his hat. 

The giant boomed with laughter and Jesse replaced his hat on his head, running fingers over the brim to straighten it. Poor old thing was wearing out. He might need to retire it before it fell apart. Probably wasn't one of his better ideas to wear his dad's old hat while on the run, but it had made him feel better having it. Maybe he'd just get it restored. Yeah, that'd work nice.

Jesse's mouth quirked up suddenly, “Hey, wait. You promised me drinks the next time we saw each other.”

Reinhardt fell into a new fit of laughter, “So I did. I guess you'll have to stick around to get them!”

“Aw now, that's playin’ dirty.” Jesse winked, relaxing a little. It was hard to be angry and stressed around Reinhardt. Maybe they were right though, maybe he  _ did _ need to be back here where he wasn't watching his back every second of the day. Maybe letting someone else watch his back for a little while would let him relax. 

“Everyone currently on base please report to the conference room.”

Jesse frowned as he glanced at Reinhardt and then pushed himself up. Well, it might be good for him if Winston didn't toss him out of the base for his fight with Hanzo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //casually posts this like a few hours into Friday
> 
> As much as some of y'all were dying at that cliffhanger, not even gonna lie I was dying to post this chapter. It was hard y'all, I had to restrain myself so I didn't eat into my buffer.
> 
> Rein is a good friend. Jesse and Hanzo? Not so much.


	19. Chapter 19

“Does anyone care to explain to me what happened here?” Winston pointedly stared at McCree, the cowboy's gun laid on the table with the cylinder open and missing a round. Everyone else either had their eyes on Hanzo, who tilted his chin up defiantly at them, or at McCree, who had limped in behind Reinhardt, now wearing all of his gear. Armor, flashbangs, chaps, all of it. Strange, he hadn't been wearing it before. Not that it mattered, it meant the idiot could leave sooner. He  _hoped_ Winston would kick the cowboy off the base but the pessimist in him knew he was stuck with him.

Even as Winston turned to face him, Hanzo stubbornly told himself it was the cowboy’s fault. All of it. If the idiot cowboy hadn’t shown up on his mission, none of this would be happening.

“Anyone at all?”

Hanzo opened his mouth to speak but an unintelligible grumble from not far away closed his mouth.  
  
“Guess I oughta start.” McCree mumbled and then heaved a sigh, looking up at the rest of them, “I woke up to Athena’s intruder alarm and didn’t really think,” He gave a noncommittal shrug, “Same shit, different day. Went t’ answer it.”  
  
“You should be resting! Not to mention you are technically a civilian!” Dr. Zeigler protested.

Another shrug, “Habit, Ange. Can’t help it anymore’n you can help runnin’ in the room if a machine beeps the wrong way.”  
  
She gave McCree an exasperated wave of her hands that looked suspiciously like she wanted to strangle him and then sighed, shook her head and gestured for him to continue.

McCree paused a moment and then his mouth quirked to one side, “When I got there, I couldn’t see Hanzo real well...”  
  
Hanzo bristled, frown deepening at the cowboy’s words. _‘Do not act as if you know me...’_  
  
“... all I could tell was there was someone rootin’ around in there ‘n fired blind. It skipped off the racks in front, ‘n as one might expect, he didn’t take too kindly t’ bein’ shot at.”

“I couldn’t imagine _why_ ,” Genji snorted with a roll of his eyes. He must have just woken up, Hanzo mused, given that he was still missing a large portion of his armor and appeared to have pajamas on still. “Why would you shoot if you couldn't see?! That was the _first_ thing Commander Reyes taught us.”

“Well, ‘scuse me fer not walkin’ up t’ someone I couldn’t see during an _intruder alarm_  and politely askin’ ‘em what the fuck they think they’re doing. Dunno ‘bout you but I don’t fancy gettin’ shot, as much as my medical record _might_ suggest otherwise.”

One of the younger members, likely Ms. Song by the way she covered her mouth, snorted and now both she and Lucio were laughing quietly.

“Oh go fuck yourself, Jess.” Genji hissed with an overly dramatic eye roll.  
  
“Got better things t’ do with my time,” the cowboy fired back with a wink and a grin.  
  
Hanzo groaned, curled his lip and found himself thankful that Winston interrupted the two with a reminder to get back on track. 

“So after you _almost_ shot my brother.” Genji prodded.  
  
“Save it. Don’t need you poutin’ at me.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed at how McCree spoke to his brother. If the cowboy didn’t get himself thrown off base today, Hanzo might. Genji, however, shot the cowboy a look that suggested Hanzo might not need to.

“Me 'n Hanzo…”

Hanzo's frown returned at the casual use of his name.

“..into a bit of a scuffle, 'n some words were exchanged that didn't help matters.”

“So first you shoot at him, and then insult him,” Genji groaned. "Jesse, you're better than this..."

"Don't you take that tone with me, I didn't even insult 'im... at first."

“Jesse!”

“Don't you 'Jesse’ me neither! He started it when he went insinuating that I'm here t’ do y'all dirty.” The cowboy leveled a glare at Hanzo, “I told you once, and I'll tell ya again. I ain't no damn traitor.”

Hanzo opened his mouth to retort but the collective wince in the room made him decide otherwise, at least for now. Getting a rise out of the cowboy was at least a little amusing. Dangerous, but amusing.

“This is the first time I'm hearing of these suspicions.”

“Winston, ya can't honestly think I'd do y'all that way?!”

“I'm not saying that you are, not yet, but I need to hear what Hanzo has to say.”

“Not yet...” McCree grumbled like a pouting child. “Can’t believe this shit.”

“If nothing else, I need find out why he was in the storage room in the first place.”

The cowboy quieted, slouching in his seat. Child was an understatement. The man was an overgrown toddler with the manners of an infant.

“My comm is malfunctioning, and you were not in your lab. I was looking for a replacement. I was going to come to you with my concerns afterwards. This morning, I overheard McCree talking with someone else in the kitchen.” 

All eyes turned to look at McCree, who paled visibly. Hanzo couldn’t help but take a little pleasure in the way the cowboy shifted his weight uncomfortably. He knew McCree was caught, and decided to savor the moment just a little longer.

 

At least, he would have but movement caught his eye outside. He glanced up to find that _everyone_ on base had reported to the conference room, including the one that shouldn’t be there. Ghost was leaning on the window frame and was regarding a picture in his hand almost boredly before he pressed it to the glass. Hanzo paled. Tech and his family. Ghost raised an eyebrow.

“Why you--” Hanzo shoved himself up, sending the chair clattering to the floor behind him, eyes focused on the window. All eyes were suddenly fixed on him but he didn't care. “If you so much as look at them wrong, I will kill _everyone_ you have ever cared for!” He was growling, voice low.

“Hanzo?” Genji called to him but he paid his brother no mind. Ghost was grinning now, canines far too long to be human. He winked, regarding the picture again before his eyes flicked back and he licked it.

Hanzo cursed loudly, surging forward and appearing across the room, but by the time he got there and everyone else's eyes had followed, the hacker was gone. Hanzo could still see the afterimage and a blur, but Ghost was gone. Hanzo wanted to chase him down and teach him the meaning of fear but Winston's confused, “Hanzo? What is going on,” stopped him.

“There is someone on base that does not belong here,” Hanzo gritted out. “McCree is--”

“Excuse me.”Genji suddenly stood, frowning. He bowed quickly, nothing more than a short bob of his head and shoulders as he hurried from the room.

Hanzo watched Genji leave, as confused by it as the others. “...aware of his presence.” He mumbled as he slipped back to his chair, gingerly tipping it upright and seating himself.

  


The room was quiet for a moment and then Winston sighed, “Hanzo. Jesse. I'd like a word with you both. Everyone else is dismissed. Keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary and let me know if you see anyone or anything that shouldn't be here.”

 _'I can see one thing.’_ Hanzo grumbled internally as Winston gestured towards the back of the conference room but kept quiet and stood to follow.

“Jesse, were you aware of an intruder on base?”

“Wouldn't exactly call 'im an intruder…”

“McCree.”

The cowboy gave an exasperated noise, “Not at first! He showed up while I was makin' breakfast this mornin’. Ain’t like I invited him neither, ‘bout fuckin’ gave me a heart attack.” He was shuffling his weight, brushing his fingers through the back of his hair. How had a man this nervous ever survived a black ops organization? All Winston had to do was look at him in a slightly disappointed manner and he turned into a scolded child.

“You saw me after that.” Winston pointed out.

A groan and then McCree pulled his hat from his head. “It's... complicated, big guy.”

“Yes, I'm sure being a double agent is.” Hanzo sneered.

He barely ducked the right hook, taking a step back away from McCree with a smirk. Too easy to anger. Those gunshots on his medical record were likely earned from stupidity, even if Hanzo tried not to admit to himself that the speed at which the cowboy had gone from standing almost limply to a well-planted swing was slightly impressive.

“Hanzo! Stop antagonizing Jesse!”

“My apologies.” Hanzo remarked stiffly, even though he couldn't have been less sorry.

McCree rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath and then sighed, “He’s one of ours. He's an old member, Winston, 'n as far as I can tell, he ain't lookin’ to get involved again. I don't blame him after the way things went last time.”

“You’re forgetting that he has done something to Athena.” Hanzo grumbled as he shot a glare at the cowboy.

“He what?!” Winston's voice pitched up in alarm.

“That ain't nothin’ new! It's been that way since Blackwatch started. There woulda been intruder alarms goin’ off every other day if we hadn't restricted her a little.”

“You what?!” Winston squawked.

“It ain't like we hurt 'er, big guy. We just had our own AI. Had to. Blackwatch wasn't supposed to exist. _We_ weren't supposed to exist. For that t’ work, we needed our own AI, our own hangars. Our own everything. The fuck d’y’all think Rome was? A playground? Shit, ya oughta seen Switzerland’s basement…’r hell, _Grand Mesa_ for that matter.”

Hanzo frowned, suddenly reminded of the tunnels he'd stumbled on shortly after arriving. Tunnels that he thought had been maintenance corridors. They had snaked all over, barely lit and leading anywhere. Everywhere. A chill passed through him. Not maintenance. Blackwatch.

“Rome? But we were told Rome was a weapons research base.”

McCree let out a humorless laugh, “Well, maybe. If ya consider people weapons and training ‘research.’ But naw, Rome was a Blackwatch base. ‘N then it blew up.”

 _‘And then it blew up.’_ It was almost chilling how calmly he mentioned that. Like it was the weather. There was something very wrong with this man. 

 

Winston let out a long breath, pressing his fingers to his temples and then wiping his hand down his face. “And the conversation in the kitchen?”

Hanzo straightened up, “They were talking about my brother when I found them and said that they couldn't tell him or else he'd tell you.”

“Must be a Shimada thing…” McCree mumbled under his breath.

“What was that, cowboy?!” Hanzo snarled, whirling.

McCree didn't move, just raised an eyebrow as if daring him to do something. Hanzo wanted to knock that lazy smirk off of his face.

“D'y'all know what the first rule of Blackwatch was?”

Why would he know that?! Hanzo bristled as if the cowboy was mocking him with the question.

“Don't talk about Blackwatch?” Winston offered earning a bark of laughter from McCree. Hanzo refused to smile at the now almost ancient reference. At least not visibly.

“Naw…” McCree's rumored good nature seemed to return quickly, a roguish grin painted across his face as if he hadn't just been accused of treason. “That's the _second_ rule. First rule was tell Genji nothin’ ya didn't want e'eryone 'n their brother knowin’. ‘Parently discretion is a _recessive_ trait.”

Hanzo had almost laughed at the rule about Genji. It was truer than he wanted to admit. Brother or not, Genji was terrible about keeping secrets. After all, he had practically given Overwatch a play-by-play of the clan's activities for years, and that wasn't counting all the little secrets, like telling the boy behind the counter at the arcade that Hanzo had a crush on him. That one had been a nightmare. However, the sound that actually came out was a choked snarl as the last sentence hit him. “How dare you!”

Winston stepped forward as if to step between them but McCree didn't move an inch. He didn't bring his arms up to block or square off his stance. He just tilted his head with a chuckle, “Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that you honestly trusted Genji with yer secrets, 'n I'll apologize.”

Hanzo faltered for a moment, eyes narrowing as the cowboy danced around his own words. That wasn't what McCree meant and they both knew it. Then again, trying to beat any kind of sense into the cowboy with Winston standing between them wasn't a wise course of action. After a moment, he relaxed his shoulders, though his jaw remained set and he glared at McCree with as much vitriol as he could muster. He despised this man and his stupid, idiot grinning.

Winston sighed softly and then turned to McCree, opening his mouth to speak.

“Winston, it would appear that Agent Genji Shimada is on his way here.” Athena interrupted.  
  
Jesse snorted. “Well, this is gonna get fun in a hurry.”

 

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at the cowboy, trying to decipher if he was being sarcastic or truthful. From what Hanzo had seen of the man, it was hard to tell what he meant unless he was angry. A knock at the door and some muffled yelling interrupted his thoughts. McCree was chuckling now, covering his mouth as if trying to hide his laughter.  
  
“Why don’tcha go ahead ‘n open that door, Athena?” McCree was laughing harder now and Hanzo strained to hear through the sound-proofed door and windows.  
  
“...don’t put-- down! I will--” The door slid open to Genji toting a familiar, blue-haired man. “...LEGS AND MAKE YOU _CRAWL_ , MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Of course you will.” Genji retorted, unperturbed by the squirming hacker slung over his shoulder who appeared to be pounding against his back.

McCree was doubled over, almost wheezing from laughter, “C’mon, Max cut ‘im some slack. One leg’d be funnier anyway!”

“Oh fuck _you_ , Jesse.” Genji huffed.  
  
“Place and time, darlin’...”

Hanzo fought down the urge to punch McCree... _again_. This crass, rude, immature bastard was not going to set foot _near_ Genji if he had any say in it. In fact, if McCree didn't shut his mouth, Hanzo was going to cut out his tongue and feed it to him. He had just decided that the best way to murder the idiot was to slip silver dust in his food when Ghost spoke again.

“I will _saw_ the heels off your favorite shoes.” The hacker gritted out, “And then I’ll slash your brake lines.”

Hanzo quirked his mouth to one side, ignoring McCree’s breathless laughter and fits of coughing. Perhaps the idiot should consider smoking less. Wait no, that would make him live longer. He absolutely needed to smoke more, maybe even enough to get nicotine poisoning while Dr. Zeigler was on a mission, preferably.

It was, however, relieving to know that Genji’s fascination with wearing heels, particularly those that were ridiculously high and thin, had not faded. When they were younger, Hanzo might have disapproved if not for the ability that Genji had for sneaking through the house in said heels, but now it was a relief. One more piece of Genji that remained. One more thing he hadn’t destroyed.

“But the knock-off Kate Spades are fair game.” The hacker shot back.

Genji gasped and then smacked the hacker’s ass, earning an audible yelp. “I _do not_ wear knock-offs! Also, I have _one pair_ of Kate Spades. They’re lime! They matched my _hair._ ” 

“They are _yellow_ and they are fake!”  
  
“Okay, they’re kinda yellow, but how dare you! I bought them at a Kate Spade store!”

“ _Of course_ you did. Is that the same 'Kate Spade Store' thatcha got yer Chanel bag 'n Gucci jeans at?” Ghost wiggled again and then slipped, almost like smoke, down to Genji’s side. 

“ _Excuse you._ ”

“Hate t' break up this _fine_  moment _,_ but y'all just gonna keep flirtin’ or go find a room?”

Winston seemed uncomfortable, shifting and shuffling. Hanzo, on the other hand, found himself glaring at McCree once more. His brother would never--

“Maybe later.” Genji laughed as he wrapped an arm around the hacker’s waist, hand resting in the small of his back.

“Aftah I mutilate his shoes.”

Hanzo’s lip curled. Genji was officially dead to him. Regardless of whether that thing still possessed his brother’s terrible choice in… lovers, Genji was dead to him.

 

Winston cleared his throat, voice raised in alarm, “Jesse, when you mentioned that the intruder on base was one of ours, you _failed to mention_ that he is a _known war criminal_ .”  
  
McCree straightened his back, narrowing his eyes, “Don’t give me that shit, Winston! _I’m_ a war criminal.” He shifted his weight and looked down at the ground, “I just never got convicted.”

Ghost grumbled something but it was too faint to hear over McCree’s unnecessary addition to the conversation. The sour look the hacker was giving the cowboy made it obvious it was about him though. McCree didn’t seem to notice.  
  
“At least, I wasn’t officially. Pretty sure that sixty mil didn't come from my Deadlock days or anythin’ they're _sayin’_ I did past seven years. Still though, if yer so worried about war criminals, then why'd ya let me on base in the first damn place?"

Winston opened his mouth but couldn't seem to find his words. Perhaps he didn't like being yelled at.

Hanzo pursed his lips. McCree's constant disrespect already sat with him poorly, but he hadn't even hesitated when it came to Winston. “You should respect your superiors, cowboy.”

McCree seemed to pause for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow, “And which superiors would those be?” He turned, mouth quirking to one side, “I’m a _civilian_ , remember? ‘N if we’re goin’ by the old ranks, me ‘n Max outrank everyone in this room.”

“We are _going by_ IQ.”

A snort and a choke from the direction of his brother and the hacker twisted one corner of his mouth up, even though he couldn’t tell which one had come from which.

McCree cocked his head slightly to the side, brows furrowing and opened his mouth as if trying to find a comeback. Hanzo narrowed his eyes, _ready_ for to him make a fool out of himself. However, the cowboy closed his mouth, snorted and then began to chuckle as he held up his hands. It appeared that McCree had a slightly higher intelligence than Hanzo would have originally given him credit for after all, or at the very least, common sense. His smirk turned into a smug grin. Maybe now the cowboy would think twice before challenging him to a battle of wits.

Genji was covering his mouth, trying his best not to laugh but Ghost, on the other hand, had no such reservations and was doubled over laughing. Occasionally, he'd snort, pause for only a second and then laugh harder which spread to Genji rather quickly. Soon, both of them were bent over, laughing almost hysterically. Hanzo rolled his eyes when McCree opened his mouth again to speak. It seemed that any period of silence was short-lived with him.

“Y'all are the worst, how y'all just gonna go 'n side with him? Traitors, the both o’ ya.” McCree waved Genji and Ghost off as if shooing them, mouth pursed but still tilted up as if he couldn't keep a straight face. “Worst friends I ever had,” the cowboy whined, crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

“Friends stick up for youse, _best friends_ laugh at yo ass.” Ghost managed out between laughing, talking fast and almost impossible to understand.

“I…” Genji wheezed, “I don't think that's how it works.”

“Nah, pretty sure it is cause I'd laugh at you motherfuckers too.”

The comment only fueled the laughter, leaving Genji red and wheezing for breath while Ghost gestured weakly at McCree. Even Winston was laughing a little. If it weren’t for the fact that Hanzo despised two of the four other beings in this room, it would have been a nice moment. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to laugh along with the likes of _McCree and Ghost_. Just the names sat sour on his tongue.

 

A white flicker of movement outside caught Hanzo's attention and he glanced over, eyebrows furrowing. No one else seemed to have seen it. For a moment, he wondered if maybe he’d just seen someone walking by.

Then, the door hissed open and the rest became a blur. A flash of light and an angry female voice. He was across the room, away from the open middle. The laughter died to pained cursing and the scramble of feet.

“Do not engage! I repeat, _do not_ engage!” Ghost shouted and if Hanzo didn’t know better, he almost sounded panicked.

“Jesus Christ Angela, what the fuck are you doin’?” McCree barked soon after, bringing Hanzo out of his instinct to fight and back to the present.

Hanzo slowly relaxed as he took stock of the room. Dr. Zeigler stood in the doorway, hands glowing with golden magic. Ghost had scrambled to a more defensible position in the room, much like Hanzo himself had. Genji had squared off to fight but seemed to be relaxing. McCree had his back to the doctor, preoccupied with Ghost and whatever injuries Dr. Zeigler _might_ have inflicted.

“What am I doing?! What are _you_ doing?”

"Protecting the _unarmed civilian_ youse just got on yer high horse and attacked." Ghost snapped back as if the answer should have been obvious.

Hanzo pursed his lips at the hacker. If there was a bigger lie, he’d never heard one. It seemed Dr. Zeigler shared the sentiment by the way she huffed, but the magic faded and she crossed her arms.

 

“I’m fine-- I’m-- Get off! _Cese y desista,_ ya fuckin' hen!”

McCree was hovering over the hacker, and hissed a reply in what sounded like Spanish as he batted away protesting hands. If you asked Hanzo, it seemed overdramatic, much like the rest of the cowboy. The back and forth continued until McCree growled something that shut the hacker up quickly.

Genji shuffled uncomfortably for a moment before approaching Dr. Zeigler. Whatever it was, it sounded a lot like he was trying to convince her not to decide to attack Ghost again. Why was a mystery to Hanzo but for some reason his brother was fond of the hacker.

He glanced back to the cowboy, who had managed to get Ghost’s shirt up enough to locate his injuries. Where the magic had struck looked scorched as if he’d been burned but the comparison ended there. Fire didn’t cause tendrils of black to crawl across the skin like that and Dr. Zeigler was not a ‘black mage’ like someone might consider him. Most dragons were inherently black mages since they typically used some form of elemental magic.

Genji’s voice rose a few octaves, and he was gesturing behind him towards the hacker who was now very pale and leaning on McCree. The cowboy was leaned towards Ghost, murmuring something to him and gesturing towards the door with his head.

It sounded like Ghost was grumbling unhappily about the whole ordeal but gave in to the cowboy's fussing. Dr. Zeigler straightened her back when McCree neared. Hanzo tensed, waiting for the cowboy to force her aside but he didn't. His shoulders dropped and he shifted his weight to better support the injured hacker.

“C'mon Ange. Lemme through,” McCree mumbled.

She debated and then stepped aside, casting an exasperated look at the cowboy as he passed, “He brought down Overwatch, Jesse. He _lied_ to everyone. He--”

“Save it Ange.”

Hanzo gritted his teeth but Genji's nervous shuffling stopped him from calling the cowboy out on his obviously suspicious behavior. He didn't want to make his brother any more uncomfortable than he already was.

Almost as soon as McCree was outside, Angela sighed and turned to Winston, “Winston? May I speak with you in private?”

“Of course, Dr. Zeigler.” He gestured to the door, “We can talk in my lab. I have paperwork to finish.” Halfway across the room, he paused, “Oh! Hanzo, about your comm, come by my lab at your earliest convenience and I'll have a new one ready for you.”

Hanzo bowed, slightly deeper than a head bob but not much, “Thank you, Winston.”

“Of course, Hanzo. Any time.”

It was silent for a moment after the door closed behind Winston and Dr. Zeigler.

 

“He's not a traitor, you know.” Genji shifted his weight, his legs whirring slightly as he stared at the door.

Hanzo's brow furrowed, “Who?” As far as he was concerned, they both were but Genji seemed convinced otherwise.

“Jesse… well, I mean, Max too. At least, not to Overwatch.”

“You are a fool. Max, or Ghost or whatever he calls himself, sells political secrets.”

“He also resells shoes that are the wrong color.” Genji retorted, hands on his hips. “You didn't complain that he was selling secrets when he sold them _to you_.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at his smartass younger brother. Unfortunately, he had a point.

“Neither of them would turn on Overwatch. You're just bad at making friends.”

“Are you finished?”

“No. Actually, I was going to ask you if you'd walk with me. I need to get dressed-- er, well… sorta. Is it getting dressed if you're putting on metal armor? Ooh, maybe I'll wear the black today.”

“You are ridiculous,” Hanzo sighed as he gestured for Genji to lead.

“Yeah. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Fridaaaay and that means more drama at the Watchpoint


	20. Chapter 20

Max was looking worse by the minute, so much so that Jesse had just opted to pick the hacker up and carry him. More worrying though was the lack of protest. Max was never this quiet. He rounded a corner, eyes on Max rather than where he was going. He collided with someone, stumbled and caught himself with his shoulder against the wall to avoid dropping Max. “Shit! Sorry, I didn’t see ya.”

“Hey man, it’s cool!”

Jesse didn’t recognize the voice but he had a good guess and a glance up confirmed that he’d run into the DJ from the jet. He shifted his weight off the wall, flashing an uneasy and apologetic grin, “Sorry I can’t stay ‘n chat. In a bit of a rush.”

“What’s wrong with him?”   
  
Jesse shifted nervously, “He got on someone’s bad side.”

The DJ leaned in, then looked back up, “Looks pretty bad man, you want some help?”

“Dunno if there’s much ya can do. Doesn’t really like doctors.”

“No doctors. All he’s gotta do is listen to some music. Safe for everyone!”

Jesse chewed his lip. “Ya sure? I mean, I don’t wanna make ‘im worse.”

“Positive! It’s the same idea as cats purring promoting healing, ya know? Just frequencies.”   
  
Jesse shuffled a minute then nodded in agreement.

“So, where you taking him? I'll get my stuff and meet you there.”

“Room 12A, just down thataway.”

“Got it, see you soon.” He took off on those skates in a streak of green not unlike Genji's. Jesse watched the trail disappear and then got moving again. He needed to get Max in a bed and resting.

 

Not too long after running into the DJ, he tucked Max  in bed and set about doing what he could for the hacker. Dispelling any brand of magic had never been his strong suit, though. He could draw some of it off, enough to keep Max alive, but that was about it.  He startled at the sound of someone knocking on the door and let out a small half-hearted chuckle at how jumpy he was. The door slid open to the DJ's bright and optimistic face. With a small smile, Jesse stepped aside to let the kid work. The DJ settled down and put his headphones on, adjusting things on his equipment until everything seemed right, then unplugged them. A soothing tone not unlike the one on the plane. Even Jesse felt better. Less tense. Could use some of that while trying to sleep.

“I don't think we ever got introduced, Mr. --”

“None of that mister stuff, that's for guys like my dad. Just call me Lúcio.”

Jesse held out his hand, “Jesse.” After a quick handshake, Lúcio returned his attention to Max. Internally, he was convinced this kid was confused how in God's name someone  _ didn't _ know his name but if Lúcio was, he wasn't mentioning it. Instead, he leaned down, and tilted his head.

“This looks really bad but he's looking better than earlier… I think my music can keep him stable at least.”

“He doesn’t react well to some types of magic.” Jesse admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably needs someone to dispel it but magic ain’t really my thing.”

“Nah, your deal is more guns and old westerns, right?” Lúcio shot him a wink and a pair of finger guns.

“Right.” Jesse chuckled but didn’t continue the conversation.

 

The room fell quiet, only interrupted by Lúcio changing up the music slightly, whether for variety or to help Max, Jesse couldn't tell.

“So, stop me if I'm being too nosy but Shimada-san, er-- Genji's brother--”

“What about him?” He chewed the inside of his cheek as he realized he'd been calling him Hanzo. That probably hadn't helped the archer's opinion of him. If he didn't get thrown off base for all this, he could at least show him some respect. Even if he really didn't like him.

“He really seems to have it out for you.”

“Mmm, yeah. Probably gonna stay that way too. Feeling's pretty mutual.”

“What happened there? I mean, I’m guessing some of it is because of Genji, right?”

“Some of it.” Jesse shrugged, “But I also respect that Genji’s over it. Even if I don't get it, I respect Genji. Most of it is personal.”   
  
“The traitor stuff?”   
  
“Started before that but yeah,  _ him _ callin’ me a traitor is fuckin’ rich. Ain’t even good t’ his own kin and he’s acting like he’s got any right t’ come at me.” Lúcio shifted his weight almost uncomfortably and Jesse sighed, “Sorry, I’m just riled up right now. Had considered comin’ back but I dunno if Winston’ll even let me stay on base for long after this.”

“That’s a shame, we could really use you around.”

“That’s what I keep hearin’. I just wish it were that simple.”

“I know how you feel, man. When Winston and Lena asked me, I was so nervous. I mean, Vishkar's got it out for me you know--”

“Oh yeah, heard about that. Down in Brazil, right?”

“Yeah, they wanted to force their 'utopia’ on us, but their 'utopia’ makes everyone the same. Sure, they say they don't care what you are but if you're not human you go on a list.”

Jesse curled his lip, but vindictive way he spat the last bit made Jesse squint, just a little, as if trying to see past some illusion. Most people wouldn't have even noticed, but apparently, Lúcio did.

“Enough of that squinty thing you hunters do, man. You can't tell me you didn't know.”

Jesse blinked and then glanced away. He was losing his touch. “Didn't. Ain't been 'round ya enough.”

“Oh. Uh…” Lúcio suddenly looked more nervous.

“Hey. Don't sweat it. I wasn't ever of the ‘all non-humans oughta die’, mindset.”

“Ah.” The DJ quieted.

 

Jesse, now curious, took a deep breath, masking it as a sigh. Huh. Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected. Lúcio smelled mostly like sea salt, but there was a smell he couldn't quite put his finger on. Fish wasn’t quite the right word, but similar. Merman maybe?

“What about you? Is your reason complicated for the same reason mine was?”

Jesse tensed. Did he know? Could he tell? Nah, probably not. “Well Vishkar's probably only wants me for the money on my head, but Talon's really got it out for me.”

Lúcio gave him an eyebrow raise and pursed his lips. “That's not what I meant. I mean it's scary right? Joining a group of hunters when you're not human.”

Jesse stopped dead, heart skipping a beat. His chest had suddenly tightened. He gripped the inside of his serape with one hand to stop himself from scrambling to take off his armor. He knew his hands were shaking, but it never got worse. It had to be the music. He wasn’t sure if the outcome was better or worse. “How could you tell?” He managed out between trying to slow his breathing.

“Can smell it on you. It's not real strong but you definitely don't smell human. Was stronger when you got on the jet.”

Jesse's thoughts strayed to Winston snorting at him. Did he know too? Had he offered in spite of that? He swallowed down the panic that jumped up again.

“Hey. Look, I don't think they care this time. I mean Winston's not human, neither am I. Magic has been in and out of fashion for years and yet you have Dr. Zeigler here and both of the Shimadas. I mean Genji looks like an omnic unless he takes everything off, you know?”

“It's different though. You're what? Merman?”

Lúcio made a face, “Siren, man. Merfolk are weird.”

Jesse blinked and then let out a bark of laughter. “Point still stands though. Back in Blackwatch, we didn't mess with sirens. I think I've tangled with one in my entire life and I'm not entirely sure Talon hadn't been messin’ with her.”

“Ugh.” The DJ grimaced, “Have they always been bad dudes?”

“Bout as long as I can remember, but see, sirens ain't really dangerous. Not usually. Entire towns don't go missin’ overnight cause a siren came through…” Jesse sighed, “But wolves? Whole families got murdered all cause they were what they were.”

Lúcio nodded and sighed, “I get it man, it’s scary. Plus you have everyone else out there that just looks at you and sees dollar signs or some bad dude. You’re stuck whether you stay here or whatever, but man, I really think you should come back. I mean, everyone keeps talking about you and stuff.”

“Yeah, well…I’m sure they'll have had just about enough of me by the end of today.”

“Don’t talk like that! They really missed you, dude. Like,  _ really _ missed you.”

“Naw, they missed the smiling idiot that never had problems. At least none they could see.”

Lúcio glanced down, fussing with the cord to his headphones for a moment, “I mean, I’m gonna be real with you, when you got on the airship, you weren’t anything like they talked about. I didn’t know what to think of you. Thought maybe you’d changed, or they were only remembering the good times. Then, I kinda figured it out when you passed me by. I get it, man. It was right after a full moon and you were injured, I don’t blame you. Have you tried just talking to them?”

“About what? Bein’ a wolf? Hell, only folks that don’t know now are Rein, Lena, Genji and uh...what’s-her-name--”

“Hana?”

“That the young lady that was next t’ ya on the carrier?”   
  
“Yeah! Her name’s Hana Song. She is or, I dunno, used to be a summoner for the Korean military. World champion gamer, even starred in some movies.”

“You sound like yer a fan of hers.”

Lúcio laughed, “We’re kinda fans of each other. It’s good publicity though! Now when she streams I pop in some times or put whatever I’m workin’ on in the background. Gets a lot of people stopping in. I’m pretty sure Genji is a fan too, cause I see him in the chat a lot.

“Huh, bet he had a fit when y’all showed up.”

“Oh yeah, he was super excited.”

Jesse chuckled and shook his head, “Word t’ the wise? Genji ain’t good with secrets.”

Lúcio snorted, “Oh no, I know. Was trying to keep my presence on the down-low in one of Hana’s streams cause I wasn’t up to be a performer that night and he slipped that I was there. Of course, he felt bad and apologized a ton but everyone was scrambling to talk to me and I just didn't have the energy to be anything but a normal dude. Felt so bad not answering fans but I just couldn’t do it that day. I’d just got back from a mission and I was beat, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it. I really do.” Maybe more than Lúcio realized. Being a performer usually came with being outgoing and pleasant, not unlike the act that Jesse put on.

“I think you should meet Hana if you stay. You two are a lot alike.”

Jesse looked down with a grin, “Not sure where ya get that one from, I’m at least twice her age, never been a moviestar, and haven’t touched a videogame in at least ten years.”

“Aw man, cut it out! You’re even worse with the jokes than they said!”

Jesse’s face fell and he put a hand to his chest, “Y’all don’t like my jokes? How could y’all do this to me? In my own house?”   
  
Lúcio smacked his lips and waved him off, “Get outta here with that.”

Jesse chuckled, and shook his head, “If I stick around, ya gotta deal with my bad jokes.”

“Aw man, I changed my mind then. Get out.”

Jesse laughed a little harder and shook his head, “Naw, yer stuck with me. 'S what's ya get fer feedin’ strays. They don't never leave.”

The DJ side-eyed him, mouth drawn to one side and rolled his eyes.

Jesse shot him a grin, then turned his attention back to Max, who hadn't seemed like he'd gotten worse, but wasn't getting better either. At least not noticeably.

“Know anyone who can dispel magic?”

“Yes and no. None of the folks I knew that could are on base, for various reasons.”

“Could Dr. Zeigler?”

“Could, probably won't. She likes him about as much as you like Vishkar.”

“Ah.” Lúcio fell quiet for a second, “Hey, what about Genji?”

“I dunno, last time he tried magic, he damn near put himself in a coma. Rather not risk it. Winston's all science and tech, Lena's blippin’ about is cause she's technically a ghost...wait. What about Ms. Hana?”

“Oh! Yeah, maybe! One sec, I'll call her up!”

 

\---

 

After a brief exchange and several minutes of waiting, the door slid open and Hana nearly bounced in. “Hey Lúcio! What did you need-- oh. Whoa. What happened? Why is he here?”

Jesse ducked his head down, shielding his eyes with his hat and the rest of his face in his serape.

“Hana!” Lúcio chided, “Leave him alone, okay? He's already had a bad week.”

Jesse could almost feel her staring at him. Picking him apart. It didn't matter if he didn't get kicked out, even if he stayed, no one would trust him.

“His friend got hit by some serious magic and isn't doing too well. He needs someone to dispel the magic so he can get better.”

“Can't help you.”

_ 'Can't? Or won't?’ _

“Hana! C'mon, the dude's in seriously bad shape.”

“I’d help if I could but you didn't tell me it was a  _ person _ , Lucio! I can dispel objects all day long but, if I dispel him, I could kill him. Objects don't really have innate magic, right? So you can wipe them clean and cast something else. People, even people who don't use magic have at least a little. Wiping a person clean can do really bad things to them!”

“Well shit.” Jesse ran his fingers through his hair, relieved at least a little that she couldn't help, not that she didn't want to. “That's everyone on base I can think of. Rein's hammer is enchanted but he doesn't mess with magic otherwise.” He kept his eyes down, “How long d'ya think ya can keep him stable?”

“I dunno, man. I mean, I've never tried.”

Jesse ran his hand through the back of his hair, pressing his fingers into the sore muscles in his neck as the dread set in. He'd already mourned Max once. He wasn't sure if it'd be harder the second time around or not.

“So who is this guy anyway?”

“His name's Max. Me, him, Genji and Moira were Reyes’ personal strike team. If Reyes went in, so did we. Max was our eye in the sky, kept us up-to-date on enemy movements and shit.”

Lucio bumped Hana, “Like Dae-hyun!”

“Pardon?”

“Dae-hyun is a very good friend of mine.” Hana said, tone edging on curt.

“Ah.” Jesse didn’t pry further when Hana offered no additional information. Wasn’t his place to.

 

The room fell quiet again except for the music. Unlike the first time, where Jesse hadn’t tried to fill the silence with small talk after the conversation faded away, this time it was awkward. Despite Lucio’s claim of the two being fans of each other, and the assumption the two were at least friends by the way she’d greeted him, neither of them talked. Jesse couldn’t help but think his presence was the reason why. Lucio fidgeted with his headphones, the music, and even worrying over Max. Laying a blanket over him and checking his pulse. Judging by the face he was making, it wasn’t good news. 

Hana seemed preoccupied with her phone and the lively game music coming out of it, but out of the corner of Jesse’s eye, he could see that her eyes weren’t on the screen. He pretended not to notice. Kept his eyes on Max and acted as if he were blissfully unaware of being watched. Every now and again, she’d look back down at her game and there would be added sounds. Jesse had played a few phone games here and there to pass the time. Good distraction, even better for seeming normal. With a shave and a change of clothes, he could disappear on a bus or a train by just playing on his phone. Probably an auto-clicker type, something that ran without any input from the player. She was good at people-watching. If it wasn’t a trick he used himself, and trained to spot people watching him, he might not have even noticed.

“So what’s your deal?” She finally looked up from her phone. She’d gotten impatient, he guessed.

He glanced over, eyes wide and brows scrunched together. “Beg yer pardon?”

“What’s your deal?” She repeated. “Why are you here?”   
  
“Y’all came after me.” He reminded her. “As for why I’m  _ still  _ here? I needed t’ see Angie one more time fer my arm, Winston wants me t’ stick around for some God unknown reason, and now…” He punctuated the word with a flick of the wrist that gestured at nothing in particular. His voice low, almost a growl, “I’m being called a traitor for even so much as  _ speaking _ with someone I worked with for over a decade and trusted to watch my back even if no one else was around to. By a man I wouldn’t trust not t’ put a knife in my ribs as soon as look at me.” Despite his best efforts to keep his volume under control, he couldn’t stop it completely, though he was a far cry from yelling, “Worse? Folks round here are listenin’. The same folks that came after me out of ‘concern’ are lookin’ at me like I’m gonna just shoot the lot of ‘em. Same folks I called my family. So you tell me ‘what my deal is’.”

Hana opened her mouth, only to be cut off by an alarmed sound out of Lucio.

“Hey, no no no!” The DJ scrambled, gently trying to keep Max from trying to get up, “Don’t move, man! You can’t move right now!”

“--aro?”

Jesse’s demeanor flipped almost like a switch as his attention whipped from the young lady across from him back to the hacker in the bed. “Hey, take it easy. ‘M right here.”

“Mattie? Wha’s wrong?” The words came out slurred. Jesse leaned forward with a slight wince, not missing the raised eyebrow from Lucio but also not acknowledging it.

“It’s nothin’, Genie. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hana mouth the nicknames at Lucio, who only shrugged and shook his head. “Got a few questions for ya. Ya got hit, need t’ make sure yer all here, ya know?”

A pause, and Jesse opened his mouth to repeat himself when Max let out a soft noise of compliance.

“Aight, what year is it?”

Max let out a soft, weak laugh and strained like he wanted to shift. Jesse frowned, gently shifting Max so that he would be more comfortable. It seemed to help a little, but the hacker didn't answer.

“Max, need ya t’ answer me. What year is it?”

“Hol’ on…'s… 2064?”

Jesse frown only deepened, “Do you know where you are?”

Another long pause, “Rome…”

The knuckles on Jesse's right hand went white from how hard he gripped his thigh. He was probably going to have a bruise there.

“An’ yer name?”

“It's--” the hacker's voice strained and Jesse hoped that he'd get at least one right answer. “Eugene.”

Jesse swore under his breath even as Max continued.

“Eugene... Maximilian…” A quiet groan, “Spencer. Junior.”

The two younger occupants of the room looked at each other with confused expressions while Jesse buried his face in his hands. “It's 2076, Max. Rome blew up eight years ago. Yer in Gibraltar, room 12A.”

If the hacker heard him, he gave no indication. In fact, Jesse was utterly convinced that he had lost consciousness. He kept his head bowed, hoping that he wasn't going to mourn Max for a second time but deep down, knowing there was no way the hacker would survive this for much longer.

Finally, he sucked in a breath, “Athena? Could you get Genji? He oughta be here.”


	21. Chapter 21

Hanzo looked up in unison with Genji when Athena called for his younger brother. McCree wanted to see Genji. His lip curled at the thought as he pushed himself up. He wasn't going to let McCree continue to disrespect his brother the way he had in the conference room. He could admit that he was wrong about the cowboy being a traitor, after Genji had explained what the conversation in the kitchen was about, and let him call Tech from his comm.

Ghost hadn't even hurt Tech. That had to be the most irritating part. He'd been played. Ghost hadn't even hurt Tech but he had, however, sent them on a cruise away from the area because Tech had tripped more than just Ghost's coding traps without realizing. Hanzo had just overreacted, and frankly, that alone was enough to be ashamed of. When had he gotten so impulsive? He chided himself internally. Impulsiveness equaled sloppiness. Sloppiness got people killed.

“I'm going with you.”

“I don't think that's a good idea, Hanzo. Jesse will be there.”

“As long as he holds his tongue, there will be no problems.”

“Hanzo…”

“I am going, Genji.”

He couldn't see the eye roll but that sigh more than gave it away. “Then I'm going in first and warning Jesse.”

“Fine.”

 

The walk from Genji's room to where McCree was staying wasn't long, in fact, the cowboy hadn't even been lying about being close to the electronics storage. Three halls away and to the right. Hanzo turned as Genji knocked and a muffled, “Come on in,” rose from inside.

Genji slipped in first and Hanzo could hear him explaining. He could hear McCree's appalled demand to know why, and bristled instantly. Genji seemed less perturbed, responding calmly as if he were speaking to a scared animal lashing out. As if he was used to this kind of outburst. Hanzo frowned at the idea that McCree may have been treating his brother this way for years. The cowboy grumbled, but through the door it was too low to understand.

 

The door slid open and Hanzo tensed. McCree was standing, though he didn't look aggressive. Something different that Hanzo couldn't place because the cowboy had his face tucked away. Hidden behind that hat. At least, most of it was. His mouth was drawn in a frown around an unlit cigar, shoulders drooped as if resigned to some horrid thing. The demons whispered that horrid thing was him, but he chased the thought away with a reminder that McCree was no better. Perhaps not fratricidal, but monsters didn't come in one shape and Hanzo had had plenty of experience in identifying them. “I'm trustin’ ya t’ take care of 'im, Lúcio. I'm… gonna go talk to Winston. Probably be best if I left the room while Shimada's here.” His tone was quiet, pitched down and haggard. He sounded exhausted. Then, something struck him. Shimada? Was the cowboy referring to him? Genji hadn't had any time to reprimand him for it. Why the sudden change? His eyes narrowed as the cowboy approached with those obnoxious jingling spurs.

“Pardon me.”

Hanzo considered not moving for a moment, then set his jaw and allowed the cowboy to pass. He didn't want to be stuck in the same room as the idiot American.

He got a quiet, mumbled ‘thanks’ as McCree passed. He only curled his lip and stepped into the room. Genji was watching him, but relaxed when a fight didn't break out and the other two seemed equal parts surprised and uncomfortable. It took several minutes after he'd seated himself for the tenseness in the air to start to dissipate.

Genji shifted nervously, “So why did Jess want me down here?”

Lúcio scratched at the back of his neck, “I think he's convinced Max might not make it? I'm doing everything I can but none of us can dispel, which is what he needs.”

Genji's head whipped around to stare at the hacker in the bed and the blue lights all over his suit dimmed. It turned out that all of the plates were interchangeable, the “muscle” was practically a catsuit, and the color of the lighting was programmable. When Genji showed him, Hanzo had laughed. It fit Genji in every way. The only thing that might have been more fitting was if he came with a built in arcade.

 

However, right now, his little brother was crawling into the bed with soft little whines that almost sounded like 'no’. Genji's hands shook when he reached up to remove his visor and helmet, fumbling with the sides until it finally hissed. He looked as though someone had just stabbed him, face screwed up in pain and sniffling softly.

The hacker's arm twitched and then shifted sluggishly around Genji. If he said something, it was too quiet to hear.

Hanzo worked his jaw as he watched his brother whimper and pet the hacker's white-blue hair. Frankly, he couldn't stand the hacker. Even if he _hadn't_ hurt Tech. Even if Hanzo had be wrong about the traitor business, at least on McCree’s part, he refused to trust this… this _thing_ . He wanted the hacker nowhere near Genji. For Genji's safety, the hacker shouldn't  even be _alive,_ but Genji cared about him. Enough so that the possibility that the bastard _might_ die had him a sobbing, heartbroken mess.

Hana and Lúcio were doing their best to console Genji but Hanzo knew it wouldn't work. Not as long as that… _thing_ , lay there dying. He stood, wishing that he didn't have to save the hacker of all people so that his brother would be happy. The only prospect worse would be McCree. Unfortunately, that was what it would take, so that is what he would do.

Hana and Lúcio were suddenly watching him with wary expressions as he neared the bed.

“Genji.”

His brother whimpered softly. Hanzo narrowed his eyes and pulled the blanket away, perhaps rougher than he meant. Lúcio let out a squawk, but Hanzo paid him little mind. At least not until the siren got in his face.

“Man, I don't know what you're doing, but I know you don't like this dude and I'm not--”

“He needs someone who can dispel, correct? Unless you have something to contribute or want him to die, _move_.”

The siren blinked at him in surprise and then shrank back, trading confused looks with Hana.

“Genji.” He tried to be gentler about it this time, “You are in my way.”

Genji sniffled and then untangled himself from the hacker, but stayed nearby. Hanzo didn't make him move any further. After all, he just needed Genji out of the way.

 

The poisoning had gotten worse since he had last seen it, but it seemed as if the situation was salvageable. While he worked, it occurred to him that McCree's expression had been thinly-veiled grief. Not that it mattered, he wasn't doing this for McCree. Not in the least, but learning his body language did matter. Americans were over-expressive and McCree was no exception, most of the time. When he hid his eyes, he became more difficult to read. Much more difficult.

Slowly, the sickly black began to fade away and the hacker's color began to return. Genji had stopped sniffling and as Hanzo pulled the last bit of white magic out of the hacker, Genji threw himself around Ghost. Hanzo frowned and shook out his tingling hand, but didn't move to stop Genji.

He stood, turning to leave. Now that McCree wasn't here, so he had no need to stay and make sure the cowboy wasn't rude to Genji. Besides that, he had no desire to be in the same room as Ghost when he woke. He didn't even make it two steps before Genji was practically squeezing the life out of him. Hanzo really wished Genji wouldn't do this here. Dispelling anything always left him tired and he just wanted to return to his room without this being an event. His brother was gushing at him, thanking him over and over. After what felt like an eternity, Genji pulled away and practically skipped back to Ghost's side with a promise that he'd find some way to repay him. Hanzo frowned as he stepped outside. He didn't want repayment. He'd done it so that he didn't sit idly by and take yet another thing from his brother. Part of him wondered if McCree had finished with Winston. Perhaps if he was lucky, the cowboy had _and_ Winston had kicked him off the base.

 

He was almost to Winston's lab when the harsh sound of spurs and running footsteps started down the hall in his direction. He braced for the cowboy to tackle him or hit him but McCree just kept running as if he hadn't even seen him. He was talking fast into a-- _oh no_ . Was that a comm? He looked back to check and wished he hadn't. Dread surged as the realization that McCree hadn't been kicked out. He was staying. The rude, obscene, idiot American was _staying._ What possessed Winston to think this was a good idea!?

He let out a groan and dragged his hand down his face as he slumped against a nearby wall. As if he needed any _more_ reasons to hate this place. Now he would need to learn the cowboy's movements, his sleep schedule, what training room he preferred and at what times. _‘Or… Keep your schedule and wait for the idiot to slip up and attack you.’_ That was certainly an idea. Why ruin his schedule for the cowboy? Let McCree get unruly and attack him with no provocation. Then Winston would get rid of the idiot and Hanzo's troubles would be over.

He took a deep breath and composed himself. The cowboy wouldn't be any trouble to get rid of. He just needed to be patient. In the meantime, he had other things to attend to. He still needed a new comm, his schedule had been thrown completely out of order and he should have eaten already, not to mention missing several hours worth of training. He ignored the fact that he still hadn't gotten any sleep, though that was nothing new. He hated the idea that he might need to skip training in favor of sleep, but he could feel the effects of exhaustion wearing on him.

Perhaps food, sleep and then he could catch up his training tomorrow, but first, he needed to see Winston.

 

\----

 

“Ah! Hanzo, I assume you're here for your new comm?” Winston greeted him in the same exuberant tone he usually had he usually had when he wasn't nervously shuffling about.

“Yes please.”

The scientist retrieved the device from his desk and swung back down, landing several feet short of Hanzo. Still, it didn't stop Hanzo from taking a step back.

Winston held out the comm with a smile, “Here you are. When you have time, could you bring the old one to me? I'd like to see what caused the malfunction and prevent it from happening in critical situations.”

“Of course.” Hanzo doubted it would, but if Ghost could hack them, someone else might be able to as well.

“And Hanzo? I feel as though I should warn you that Jesse McCree has been reinstated to agent status, on probationary terms.”

“I am aware, he passed me in the hall with a comm in his hand.”

“Ah. Well, on account of his knowledge and seniority as an agent, I was inclined to bring him back but as you are an unbiased party, I'd like you to keep an eye on him. I'm not entirely comfortable with how much he kept secret or how aggressive he's been since arriving. He will be on probation for one month to prove that he's not a danger to the agents on base.”

One month.

“I assume then you know about his…” Hanzo struggled for a word.

“Condition? Yes. He brought it up and promised that he would be telling everyone. However, he also mentioned that you were the first to know, Hanzo.”

Hanzo nodded, “When I encountered him the first time, I had no reason to believe he was dangerous to innocent lives so I was not going to report his presence. He is not… feral. He can speak, he is aware of others and fought the werewolf I shot. I saw no reason to kill him.”

“I see. Thank you for that knowledge. I will rest easier knowing that he won't have to be restrained next month.”

Hanzo dipped down for a moment and then straightened, “Of course. Now, if I could be excused, I haven't eaten yet and should do so before it gets late.”

Winston's eyes widened and Hanzo was almost shoved out of the room with how fast the scientist ushered him to the door. “Yes, of course! Please, go eat!”

Hanzo straightened his clothes as the door slid shut behind him, though considerably less ruffled than he would have been if someone else had done that. Once he had composed himself, he turned for the cafeteria, hoping that there were leftovers that he could heat up rather than needing to cook. He was too tired to cook.

 

The good news was, there were leftovers in the fridge. The bad news was he wasn't sure that they wouldn't kill him if he ate them. One container was definitely bacon, and another appeared to be sausage and both seemed edible but the last one… the last one resembled scrambled eggs except the color was _wrong_. It wasn’t the slivers of red or green or even the mildly worrying large chunks of brown. The eggs themselves were... almost orangeish-brown with tiny flecks of red. It looked like someone had soaked the entire thing in soy sauce and pepper. It looked like something a younger Genji might have concocted. Still, curiosity and exhaustion won out over the quiet voice of self-preservation that said don't eat that. The smell as he popped the lid open was vaguely similar to the times that Lúcio cooked but stronger. Spicy but no hints of soy sauce. That at least was comforting. It meant that his brother hadn't cooked it and was therefore, hopefully not going to put him in medbay.

He experimentally pulled one of the large chunks of brown from the rest, found that it was a potato and emboldened by the discovery, popped it in his mouth. He coughed as the heat from the unexpected amount of spices on it hit his tongue but once he'd moved past that, decided it wasn't wholly unpleasant. In fact, it was quite delicious. He scooped some of the eggs out onto the plate, noting that even despite his rather generous portion, it had barely dented the amount of eggs in the bowl. He mixed in the sausage and tossed a few pieces of bacon on the side and shoved it in the microwave while he readied two slices of toast.

It dawned on him who had probably cooked the food halfway through a bite of toast, as he was laughing at how very American the meal was. Suddenly, he found himself disgruntled that he had eaten anything made by the cowboy and appalled that he'd enjoyed it. Reheated eggs had no business being as fluffy as these were. His stomach growled, demanding more despite his pride telling him that he should trash it just to spite the cowboy. The more logical part of his brain reminded him that the cowboy was nowhere nearby, and that all he would accomplish is wasting delicious food that he _could_ just satisfy his hunger with. As usual, logic won.

The food sat heavy and made him tired, as American food usually did, but this time he welcomed it as he trudged off to his room for a shower and sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The things people do for the ones they love... Hanzo wishes it didn't involve a certain hacker from Newark.


	22. Chapter 22

Jesse didn't like being on probation. It made him feel like he was a criminal they didn't trust. Like it was his early days all over again. He understood it, but it didn't stop the little voices of doubt. He shook his head, shushing them. He just had to be on his best behavior for the next month. He could do that. As long as he proved that not only could he work with the others but that he wouldn't hurt anyone when the next full moon came around, everything would be fine. It'd be easy.

 

He'd have to stay far away from Hanzo, not that that would be a great tragedy to either of them. He could work with everyone else. Sure, he wasn't used to working with them anymore, but it'd be easy to fall back into the old habits. Old maneuvers would come back to him in no time. A few simulator runs and he'd be ready to go.

 

He was panting by the time he reached the room where apparently, Max was doing just fine. Someone had dispelled the magic poisoning him and he was supposed to make a full recovery. As he braced himself on the wall, he tried to ignore the fact that his knee felt like someone had jammed a hot poker through it by telling himself he needed to stop relying on adrenaline to keep him going. Maybe it'd take more than a  _ few _ simulator runs.

 

When he had caught his breath, he punched in his newly reinstated codes and cracked a grin as the door slid open. Max was already sitting up. Well, mostly. He was leaning on Genji looking as though he’d just been punched in the jaw but he was up, awake and looked pretty aware. Jesse settled in the same chair he’d been in before he left.   
  
“Yer lookin’ better.”   
  
“But youse is lookin' worse.”   
  
Jesse huffed out a chuckle, “Nothin’ a few drinks won't cure. Maybe a few laps 'round base.”

“Jesse, may I speak with you outside?”

Jesse’s brow furrowed at the almost formal way Genji spoke. “Uh, yeah. Sure thing.”   
  
Genji smiled at Max, promised he’d be right back and then headed for the door and Jesse got up to follow.

“Dont do nothin' I wouldn’t do without me.”   
  
“So basically, do anything we want?” Jesse shot back over his shoulder, earning him a laugh.

 

As soon as the door was shut, Genji turned back. “He doesn’t remember anything after he got hit.”

“What about before?”   
  
“Seems fine. Answered all the normal questions, asked me what kinda stupid question  _ his name _ was.

Jesse let out a chuckle, “That makes me feel better. He thought we were in  _ Rome _ when I asked 'im before I called ya _.  _ Called me Mattie, 'n said his full name when I asked. I really wasn't sure he was gonna make it 'n now...”

“And now he's okay... minus the hole in his memory.”

“Yeah. Did you-- I mean it's such a huge risk, given what happened last time--”

Genji shook his head. “I don't cast if I can help it. Most of my magic is tied up in my suit. I can use it to enhance my own physical abilities, dash in midair, and if I am careful, invoke a summon to my blade. I don't know how to dispel people. I… never studied to learn.”

“Yeah, remember ya doin’ that summon thing a few times. Always scared me half to death when ya did after that one time.”

“I wasn't careful that time.”

Jesse gave him a look, “Still doesn't make me feel any better.”

“I know.”

“So, if you didn't do it… that only leaves--”

“My brother, yes.”

“Why would he though? I mean, he can't stand Max. Threatened to kill 'im.”

“My brother is… a harsh man--”

“That’s an understatement…”

“Hush! I wasn't finished!”

Jesse rolled his eyes and gestured for Genji to continue.

“He acts in ways he feels is right. When I explained to him about you and Max, he considered it rather than rejecting it. I still don't think he trusts you, but I believe he is willing to admit, at least to himself, that you aren't out to betray anyone on base.”

Jesse let out a disbelieving, “Mhm. That's why he looked like he wanted t’ kick my ass when he walked in earlier.”

“Jesse!” Genji reprimanded with a light smack to the shoulder, and then tilted his head with a slight shrug, “He always looks like that. It's not personal. All of that said, my brother isn't heartless. He is stern, and harsh, and duty-bound--”

“That's a lot of fancy words for asshole, there.”

Genji curled his lip in disgust, “Could you not? He is what the clan made him to be, Jesse. No different than Reyes was what the military made him or what Deadlock made you.”

Jesse frowned at that last part.

“It's all he's ever known... and he is having a hard time breaking away from it. Just like you. What's the saying, 'pot calling the kettle black’? You were an asshole too, Jess. You changed, so can he. He's already a lot more expressive than he used to be. He's changed a lot since…” Genji gestured at himself.

Jesse frowned as his hackles pricked up. He still didn't like the guy.

“He  _ laughed _ when I showed him that the lights on my suit could change. I haven't seen my brother laugh since we were children. He is  _ trying _ , Jesse. He just needs time.”

 

Jesse chewed on the inside of his cheek and changed the subject ever so slightly so he wouldn't be rude. “Ya think he did it fer you?”

“Probably. It definitely wasn't for you.”

Jesse shook his head with a snort. “Well, least me 'n him can agree on hatin’ each other. It'll make my probation smoother if we both just avoid each other out of general distaste of the other’s existence.”

Genji snorted and rolled his eyes, then paused. “Wait. Probation?! Does that mean--”

“Here t’ stay. Lúcio talked t’ me for a bit 'n got me really thinkin’. Course, part of my probation requires that I come clean about this,” he gestured to his left arm. “Even if most of the base already knows.”

“Right, your uh--” Genji pursed his lips, “Coyote attack.”

“That was the other arm.”

“Right, of course. How could I forget?”

“Hey now, don't need none o’ yer sass. Ain't a comfortable feelin’ tellin’ hunters yer a werewolf.” In fact, Jesse didn't want to tell everyone at the same time. One person at a time was about all he swore his heart would handle. Genji was no sweat but Rein worried him, even if only a little. Ms. Hana was an unknown. He couldn't tell if she'd try to shoot him or be indifferent. Genji knew now and Lena probably wouldn't give him all that much trouble.

“Right,  _ my _ sass. Because you totally didn't have something to say about my brother every five seconds.”

“Can't help it that he's got it out for me somethin’ fierce.”

“Got it out-- Jesse, he didn't even mention your presence on his report! If we hadn't been contacted by another source, we would have never known you were still in Santa Fe.”

“Come again?” Jesse's brows furrowed. Hanzo hadn't reported him? Then who?

“Hanzo never reported you. He took the black wolf and said nothing about you being there. He only got suspicious of you when you were talking to Max and can you blame him? Then you go and shoot at him in the electronics storage…”

“Suppose when ya put it that way…” Jesse mumbled, rubbing his arm.

“You suppose…” Genji pursed his lips, “Jesse McCree, I will--”

“Simmer down, darlin’. I've already made up my mind not t’ be snappy with 'im. I'll be polite, but I ain't gotta like 'im.”

“I had hoped that  _ you _ of all people would be different than everyone else on base.”

“An’ I mighta been if he hadn't hauled off callin’ me a traitor, cheated and choked me out with cops nearby, damn near broke my knee again--”

“You tried to  _ kill _ him!”

“I did  _ not _ try to kill him. He found me as a wolf, and I asked him who he was working for, if he was freelance or not. He got all pissy at me, insulted me, and I challenged him to a fair fight. He cheated, 'n choked me out with cops nearby. Then I get here, he started calling me a traitor. I shot at him on mistake! I thought he was a damn intruder, sue me.”

“Because the dent in the wall  _ wasn't _ you and you  _ weren't _ trying to punch Hanzo with your left hand.”

“That was at the end of fuckin'  _ everything _ , though! After he'd let me believe he was gonna leave me for the cops, insulted me, cheated not once but twice, damn near broke my knee again  _ and _ called me a traitor, I lost my temper!” Jesse threw his hands up, “I know I got problems, but I thought you knew me better'n that Genji.”

“I thought I did too.”

Jesse sucked in a harsh breath at the words, “I wasn't gonna kill 'im. I was  _ never _ gonna kill ‘im. I just-- you know what, forget it.” Jesse's voice had raised but rather than angry, he was hurt. He shook his head, “Tell Max I'll talk to him later. I'm gonna go hit the range or somethin’.” He needed to get this out of his system. He didn't want to go back to the way things were in Blackwatch.

“Jesse, wait.”

“Leave me alone. Ain't no amount of talkin’ gonna change yer mind, so I'm gonna go blow off steam.” Under his breath, he grumbled, “Since apparently, I'm the only one that can't lose their temper 'round here.” Angela had nearly killed Max, Hanzo, as far as he could tell, was the biggest asshole on base but  _ he _ was the problem.

This probation would probably end up being more for him than them. He wasn’t even sure how long he would last with everyone acting like he was fresh out of Deadlock. Maybe it’d be better once everyone got some sleep and cooled off. The last several days had been chaotic. ‘ _ Give it a month, McCree, then decide if you're still gonna leave.’ _

 

\----

 

He gave up at the range after three rounds. His injured arm was still throwing off his shots and he was tired and hurting in more ways than one. His score cards showed just how bad his shots were. This one a little right, that one too high. A cluster of four where two hadn't even touched the target. He sighed as he finally sagged onto one of the benches nearby.

His knee was hurting him again, though he was pretty sure it was from the hard run he'd forced himself through, singing cadence to himself even though there was no one there to echo him back. He’d nearly wheezed out a lung but it'd cleared his head. He hissed and winced he pulled the plated pad off of his knee, and then rolled up his pants leg.

He should go see Angela, but he wasn't sure he was in the mood to deal with anyone. Least of all, her. Part of him didn't want to hear the lecture, but part of him was more than a little upset with her for almost killing Max.

Honestly, he wanted to go faceplant into bed with a bottle of whiskey and not talk to anyone for a month. His head lolled back with a pitiful groan. He couldn't even do that. Too many people in 'his’ room and no whiskey to be had. Funny, when he was alone, he'd hated the loneliness. Now all he wanted was to be alone again. He wasn't used to being around so many people anymore. Sevn years of being alone had made it hard to force the smiles and pretend everything was all okay. Frankly, he was exhausted by all of it.

 

Maybe a nap here wouldn't hurt. Just a few hours. Then he could go back, pretend that it didn't hurt that no one trusted him and just be the Jesse they knew. The Jesse that didn't have depression, or panic attacks, or problems. He rolled his pants back down, tucked his hat over his face and tried not to listen to the voice that whispered that they hadn't  _ really  _ missed him, hadn't  _ really  _ loved him. Just the thought of him. They missed having someone to make fun of and joke with, but not him. Anyone could take that spot.

He shook that out of his head. That was the exhaustion talking. They wouldn't have come after him if they didn't care. They had to care. It had just been chaotic. Give it time. It had to be better this time. It had to be.


	23. Chapter 23

Early morning light filtered through the slits of the metal shutters on his window and onto Hanzo's face, waking him from his less than peaceful sleep. He groaned. He was groggy and in no mood to move. In a manner that suited his brother rather than him, he rolled into his stomach, pulled a pillow over his head and promptly decided that discipline be damned. He wasn't getting up yet. He'd just set an alarm for an hour and a half. That should be enough. Just long enough to erase the grogginess. It wasn't like him to even wake up groggy, but not getting any sleep the previous day tended to do that. He could afford another hour and a half.

The alarm didn't do much. In fact, he just rolled over, shut it off and when he woke up later, cursed himself for doing so. It was almost  _ noon. _ He practically shot out of bed. What had he been thinking?! Discipline be damned… next he'd be dying his hair and slacking on all of his duties!

“Ah! Agent Hanzo, you’re awake.” Athena chimed as he brushed his teeth more roughly than necessary. “You have a message from your brother.”   
  
He cursed as he spit the toothpaste into the sink. Was he supposed to meet his brother today? No, wait that was later this week. “Play the message.”   
  
“Of course.” 

There was rustling and then Genji spoke, “Good morning, Hanzo! Did you sleep well? Wait, you can’t answer me. Uh, so I know we were really starting to get along again and we made plans this week but I need to go back to Nepal for a little while--”   
  
Hanzo groaned as he continued brushing his teeth. Of course Genji was going back to Nepal and that weird… cult that he’d joined. Fine. It wasn’t like he had looked forward to spending time with his little brother. He had other things to do anyway.   
  
“--comm should be working now. Max says he’s sorry for-- ow! Okay! Didn’t need to pinch me…”   
  
Hanzo’s nose wrinkled as he glanced at the comm on his bedside table.   
  
“Anyways, I had to come in your room while you were asleep.”

Hanzo choked, coughing and sputtering. Why did Genji need to be in his room?! He filled the cup beside the sink with water to rinse his mouth and spit the last of the toothpaste out. He trudged to his closet as Genji rambled on about… something.   
  
He figured out what Genji was rambling on about when he got there. Someone had not only been in his closet, but reorganized it by color, and there were clothes that he  _ did not  _ buy, nor was he sure that he would  _ ever _ . He pulled out one of them, raising an eyebrow. How did this scrap of fabric even count as clothing? Other articles of ‘clothing’ were similarly inspected and put back with noises of disgust. His brother had to be behind this. He would never wear these.

Once dressed in his favored and  _ more traditional _ clothing, Hanzo turned to grab Stormbow. He stopped when two boxes on his dresser caught his eye. Gifts? Who would give him gifts? He glanced around, as if he were ashamed to be caught satisfying his curiosity.

One of the gifts was meticulously wrapped in blue cloth, no-- He paused as his fingers ran over it. Silk. His brows furrowed as he gently tugged the knot tied on top, pulling the silk away and setting it aside. He could carry his lunch with him to training now. That alone was a fine gift. He didn't need to force himself into the cafeteria where he would be sitting alone until Genji returned listening to everyone talk about him in hushed whispers.

The box was thin, black and markingless except for a small warning on the side. His fingers ran over the silver embossed kanji telling him not to cut the tape lest he damage the contents of the box. After several minutes of gently pulling at the tape, he managed to get the box open. At first, he almost didn't recognize the folded silk for what it was. It had been so long since he'd worn a kimono… A smile tugged at his lips.

As he pulled it from the box, his smile widened at his family's crest embroidered on it and matching haori, no less! He'd need to find a reason to wear it, eventually. As he was admiring the silk and embroidery work, a small card fell out and fluttered to the ground. He bent down to pick it up, noting that it had been embossed in a similar way as the box, but not in Japanese. Italian. His brow furrowed as he flipped the card to the correct side. _ Finché c'è vita c'è speranza.  _

The smile dropped. He'd heard only one person on base use Italian. His eyes flicked back to the kimono, suddenly suspicious even though the gift was very fine. Too fine. The hacker probably needed Genji to tell him that he should even give a gift and what to give. With a noise of disgust, Hanzo put the kimono back after folding it again, shutting the box and tucking it up on a shelf in his closet.

The other box left him wary. The wrapping was paper, in a subtle watercolor pattern of blues and greens. The paper was wrinkled and the seams were loose but had been taped very neatly. As if the person had been trying very hard, but something had made them unable to wrap it as tight as they would have liked. It was roughly the same size as the kimono box but thicker. A satin ribbon, judging by the matte side, topped the box. He wrinkled his nose almost instantly. 

He was just as careful removing the paper from this one though, just in case. He held up the satin ribbon, inspecting it. It was very long and despite the material, looked to have been cut carefully so that it wouldn't fray. He set it aside with a sigh. He wasn't sure what he'd do with that but it didn't seem like the person who'd wrapped this gift had intended for it to be seem cheap. He supposed that given the effort, it wasn’t all bad. At least this one didn’t seem as though they’d had to ask his brother. As he pulled the paper away, he disturbed the contents of the box and the smell of something sweet hit him. 

It was a bakery box, though completely unmarked. His brow furrowed as he flipped open the lid to a dozen sugar and cinnamon dusted cookies in the shape of flowers. Unlike the wrapping, these were meticulous. Each petal had been carefully shaped. The flowers looked like chrysanthemums but the middle was too large. He picked one of the cookies up delicately as if it would crumble in his hands but it was surprisingly sturdy. 

Despite their beauty, Hanzo was wary to try it. Most cookies tended to be way too sweet for his liking. Finally, he nibbled on a petal and found that though crisp, it melted in his mouth. He made a face as the taste of anise and cinnamon spread backed by something a little savory. They weren’t overwhelmingly sweet and surprisingly, hit his sweet tooth in all the right ways. A faint smile spread as he gripped the rest of the cookie in his teeth and inspected the box for a tag or card. Nothing. Definitely homemade. He glanced at the satin ribbon, then back at the cookies and found a napkin to wrap two more up as he finished the first. He was  _ definitely _ going to need to train most of today. There was no way these were healthy for him but he couldn’t find it in him to care as he grabbed another for the walk.   
  
He hardly made it even a quarter of the walk before he found himself trying to place the savory flavor behind the cinnamon and anise. He nibbled a petal and then another. Half of the cookie had disappeared before he finally decided that it was definitely an alcohol, but which one he couldn’t quite tell. Then he found the flavor lingering and much like a song stuck in one’s head, he just wanted a little more. Of course, a little more was more like the rest of the cookie and now he wanted another one. No. He was not going to eat so many cookies in so short of time. He only had ten left and two were with him. 

Instead of thinking about those cookies, he headed for the cafeteria. Everyone but Reinhardt had left, judging by the sounds in the kitchen. He didn’t want to interact with the giant, but he needed lunch. With a beleaguered sigh, he opened the door.   
  
“Ah, hello Hanzo!”   
  
Hanzo tried not to wince at Reinhardt’s bellowing, but the knight was just too loud for his sensitive ears. He would have enjoyed his company otherwise. “Good afternoon.”   
  
Thankfully, Reinhardt seemed to notice and lowered his voice with an apology. Hanzo had resumed trying to find something suitable for lunch when Reinhardt tapped on the counter nearby. Reinhardt never touched him like with the others. He never imposed upon Hanzo's space. The giant's only fault was the volume at which he spoke. Hanzo looked up to see a container held out toward him and the giant grinning, “I made sure to save you some.”   
  
It took him a moment and then he bowed, taking the container with both hands. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”   
  
That seemed to please Reinhardt because he smiled wider and then returned to cleaning up the kitchen. The container of food was warm, and if he hurried to the training rooms, it might still be. “Have a good day, Reinhardt.”   


“You too, Hanzo!”

\---

 

Reinhardt had paid more attention to what Hanzo ate than the archer had given him credit for. Minus a few things, the portions and contents were near perfect. They were also light enough that he could start training as soon as he finished and not need a nap, unlike the way some around here ate. He finished up his lunch, unwrapped another cookie and filled his water bottle from the nearby fountain.    


After all of his missed exercises for the morning were done, he took a break to drink some water. His attention strayed to the last cookie. No. No, that one would be after simulator runs  _ if _ he beat his previous score. He didn’t need that cookie. Yet.

Target practice went well, naturally, and he even beat his own score by 15 points and 30 seconds. However, even though his score was first on the leaderboard, his previous score was now in third. Second place was claimed by-- his lip curled.  _ McCree. _ He almost wanted to shoot again, just to put McCree's score in third place.

On a still target range, his score would always be perfect, but the targets here moved and the entire thing was timed. He drew back on his bow, ready to run it again. A holoprojector displayed rules for the range. Besides the standard safety rules, there were the rules for that range mode. If he hit a 'civilian’ target, he would lose all of his points. If he didn't shoot a target when it appeared and it cycled through, 'disappearing from line of sight’, he would lose points. If the previous target had been a civilian, he would lose all of his points. Targets were scored on number of lethal shots.

Another round only resulted in a five point gain but a two second loss of time. It still put McCree's score a full ten points behind  _ and  _ placed it in third, though, and that was the important part. Satisfied, he turned to get another drink of water and check the time. Two hours until dinner.  If he ate the cookie now, he could run a simulator course and be hungry enough to eat. He had earned it. He unwrapped the last cookie and ate it slowly, smiling to himself.    
  
A few quickly-run simulations ate up his remaining two hours, and by the time Hanzo dropped his bow off in his room, his stomach was complaining. He stepped into the loud and rowdy cafeteria almost unnoticed. Reinhardt raised a hand at him, and he mimed the gesture but no further attention was called to his presence. He seated himself away from the main group with his food, where he usually sat, only there was no Genji to join him.

McCree didn’t seem to be present at first, but then his hat bobbed up past the others. However, it seemed that it wasn’t on McCree’s head. The table shifted as Tracer zipped around to take her seat wearing the cowboy's hat, which was too big for her and drooped in her eyes.

As he started on his food, Hanzo watched the others as he usually did. Even if he had no interest in interacting with them, it didn’t hurt to know their habits. Watch for signs of danger, of someone acting strangely. Right now, the only one that fit that bill was McCree. The cowboy was an unknown variable. Hanzo only knew what he could glean from reports and files but everything seemed so contradictory. A villain if you asked most but there were plenty to suggest otherwise. Hero, antihero, vigilante. The man who had robbed the train to Houston hadn't taken a single thing, and had stopped armed men from killing everyone on board. It was all very strange. Then again, he wasn’t sure he could expect anything less from a revolver-carrying, cowboy  _ werewolf _ . That alone sounded like the premise for a terrible movie with more special effects than story.    
  
McCree played up the easy-going drawl and smile and lounged in his chair like he had no worries. His drink rested on the knee that was pressed against the table, leaning his chair back onto two legs. Despite looking like the picture of comfort and relaxation, there was a bit of tenseness in McCree’s shoulders, like he was uncomfortable. His smile and laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes but no one seemed to notice. Hanzo's attention went back to his food, staring into it while he listened in.

The conversation was mostly stories. Almost everyone seemed interested in hearing McCree's tales from the last several years. 

“Ain't much t’ tell that the news ain't covered.”

“Oh, come on, cowboy!”

Hanzo's eyes flicked up instinctively at the sound of the table scraping and chair legs hitting the floor again. There was a tiny splash of whatever McCree was drinking on his shirt and several people around the table had started laughing while Dr. Zeigler scolded him. McCree was laughing along, but something seemed like it bothered him. Again with the laugh that didn't reach his eyes. Hanzo watched him, scrutinizing him as if he half-expected the cowboy to suddenly snap. There was something not right with him.

Eventually, the conversation steered away from McCree, and focused on other things. The cowboy seemed to relax then. Hanzo made note of that. Perhaps he wasn't so strange after all, just uncomfortable with so much attention on him. Hanzo could relate to that.

McCree was the first to excuse himself from dinner, rambling on about needing to 'get himself looking presentable again’ and stole his hat back from Tracer who complained audibly about it. Hanzo left next, because he knew the rest would just linger and talk about nothing for several hours. He'd made that mistake once.

 

He scrubbed the food from his dish and set it in the worn-out dishwasher, wincing when it scraped against the metal rack and left his ears feeling as though they were bleeding. He rubbed at his ear as if that would help anything, but as usual, it would just have to subside on its own.

 

Luckily, there was nothing to stop him from retiring to his room in silence. No one tried. Everyone was either in the cafeteria or… wherever McCree was. Probably in his own room, if the cowboy’s words had meant anything.  _ If. _ In Hanzo’s brief experiences with the man, the only time he spoke his mind fully was when he was angry. Every other word he spoke either was, or should be considered, a half-truth at best. The ‘if’ had Hanzo watching his back the entire way back to his room, as if he expected the cowboy to suddenly appear and try to shoot him again. Nothing of the sort happened, but it didn’t stop Hanzo from locking the door before he settled down to meditate and then double-checking it before bed. He wasn’t tired, but he needed his sleep schedule back on track, so he’d just make himself sleep, however little it was.


	24. Chapter 24

A week passed with little incident. Jesse avoided running into Hanzo where he could, and minus passing the archer in the hall, he was largely successful. He did, however, start trying to beat the archer’s shooting scores every chance he got once he noticed that Hanzo kept stubbornly trying to keep his scores in third place. Jesse found it utterly hilarious.

He ran his tongue over his teeth as he lined up his next shots, eyes narrowing as first a civilian, then two enemy targets started scrolling through. Almost as soon as the civilian had moved slightly out of the way, just enough to give him line of sight to the bullseye on the first enemy's head, he fired. The target dropped, giving him line of sight to the next and he fired again, knowing that the quick eliminations would give him just a little bit extra score in sheer time bonus.

Sure enough, when he had eliminated all 40 targets, he had bested Hanzo by a full 40 seconds and 30 points. Let him chew on that for a little bit. He twirled his gun with a smug grin, holstered it, and headed for lunch. He was starving anyway. 

Hanzo wasn't there, as Jesse had come to realize was normal for the archer and that suited Jesse fine. The worst minefields he had to traverse if there was no Hanzo was everyone being so damn interested in his life the past seven years. No one seemed to catch on that he just didn't want to talk about it. There was nothing great or romantic about the last seven years. No wild tales to spin. Just running, and running, and running some more. Even when his body was ready to collapse, he'd force himself to move because dying of exhaustion seemed like a better way to go than prison… or Talon.

Reinhardt greeted him enthusiastically and Jesse put on that grin that everyone seemed to like. As much as he told himself this time it would be different, he couldn't stand the looks. Reinhardt gave him a funny expression, and then beckoned him into the kitchen.

As soon as the door shut behind Jesse, Reinhardt turned and leaned on the counter. “How are you feeling, Jesse?”

Jesse had started getting used to these questions. Angela and Reinhardt asked most, but occasionally Lena would pull him aside too. Ever since he'd talked to Rein after his fight with Hanzo, they'd started checking up. He appreciated it too.

“A little overwhelmed by bein’ 'round so many people again, but ain't too bad otherwise. 'm actually sleepin’ again, suppose that's a win.” They didn't ask for anything he didn't willingly give, but listened to what he would. 

Reinhardt lit up. “That is good news!”

“Wish folks would stop askin’ me 'bout the last seven years though. Ain't nothin’ t’ say I ain't already said.”

“They are just excited, Jesse. It will pass. Some old friends have arranged to be picked up and will be arriving soon. They'll forget all about pestering you.”

Jesse chuckled, “Sure hope so, Rein. Else I might need t’ follow Hanzo's lead and take lunch with me t’ practice. Might even finally beat his simulator run.”

Reinhardt made a face at him and then laughed, “How has your 'competition’ with him been going?”

The change in subject brought a devilish grin to his face, wiping away the fake smile from earlier. “Gave him a real challenge to chew on. Got 'im by a whole 30 points. He may not like me, but I gotta give 'im… he’s a hell of a shot. Trying to beat his scores on stuff'll get me back in shape in no time. Almost like runnin’ against Reyes, Genji and Ms. Amari all at once.”

Reinhardt let out a hearty laugh and pushed off the counter to go for the fridge.

Jesse gratefully accepted the beer when it was offered, chuckling as he took a swig, “Angie would have our hides for drinkin’ this early in the day.”

“Ah, one beer never hurt anyone!”

Jesse chuckled and leaned back on the counter, “So who's due t’ be comin’ in?”

“Just Torbjorn and Brigitte this time, but it will be nice to have my armor repaired.”

“Shit…  does 'ole Torb know 'bout my uh…” Jesse glanced down, “condition?”

“He doesn't even know you are here. He arranged for the transport before you had decided to stay.”

“Ah. Well, maybe he'll be less… opinionated on the matter than Morrison would be. Torb liked me, right?”

Reinhardt chuckled and shrugged with a noncommittal hand wiggle.

“Eh, I'll take it. So when're they due in?”

“Today or tomorrow, if they were ready when the carrier arrived. You know how Torbjorn is!”

“Ha, if we're waitin’ on him, that carrier'll be there a whole month and come back with 'upgrades’.”

Reinhardt boomed with laughter and Jesse laughed along with him. This part was nice. This was the part he missed. If it stayed this way, if they kept going doing only the white hat work and didn't stray into Blackwatch work, things might be different. Better. He took another swig of his beer, leaning around the giant to look at lunch.

“So what're we havin’? Smells good.” 

“Beef stew!”

“With rolls and potatoes like old times?” Jesse's eyes lit up.

“Yes, yes, of course! Same recipe!”

“So that's where the beer came from…” Jesse chuckled teasingly. “It almost ready?”

“Just waiting for the rolls to bake!”

“Shit, I may grab a bowl without one, 's been a real long time and I'm starvin’.”

“Patience, Jesse. The rolls will be done in a few minutes.”

“Dunno if I can last a few minutes Rein!” Jesse teased, “I might just waste away.”

“Rubbish! Look at you, you'll be fine!” Lena zipped into the kitchen, snatching the bottle away from Jesse's fingers and taking a swig herself. “So are we all just hidin’ out in here now?” 

“Well y'know how Angie is,” Jesse grinned as he stole his beer back, “She'd ran our hides fer drinkin’ before-- For drinkin'. Period.”

“I don't think she'd say anything to ole Reinhardt!”

“Naw, but she'd have my ass, and she's already on me for everything else…” he leaned harder as he took another drink, then passed it to Lena. With a wicked smile, he pitched his voice up, “Jesse, have you been remembering to take care of your arm? You should really consider eating less red meat. Fish and white meat are much healthier! Smoke less too, your lungs won't last forever!”

“Well it's true!” Angela's voice rang out as she stood in the door, hands on her hips.

Jesse ducked his head almost immediately with a sheepish grin, “Oh, hey there Doc.”

She crossed her arms with a stern expression, “If you want to treat your health with reckless abandon, then be my guest, Jesse McCree. I am  _ so _ sorry that I am doing my job and watching out for your well-being as both your doctor and your friend.”

Jesse frowned, “Now, Ange. Ya know I don't mean it. It's all in good fun.” He took a step forward, “I'm sorry, Angela. Yer good t’ us all and we'd all be a mess without ya.”

She eyed him for a moment and then her hands dropped to her sides, “You are lucky that you're so charming, Jesse.”

“Only most of the time,” he fired back with a wink.

“Sometimes.” She said with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Alright, sometimes.” He agreed with a laugh. “I did cut back on smokin’ though. One 'r two a day. Most of the time I jus’ chew on 'em.”

She rolled her eyes, “Now if only I could get you to stop abusing your poor liver.”

“I'd be happy t’ stop abusin’ it when the world stops abusin' me.”

“Alcoholism is not a remedy for your problems, Jesse.”

“Neither is a bandaid but they both make shit stop hurtin’ fer a bit.”

Angie gave him a groan, “What am I going to do with you, Jesse?”

“Love me?”

“Love you? I think I'd prefer to  _ strangle _ you.”

“Didn't know ya were int’ asphyxiation, Doc.”

“Jesse!” She stomped up to him and shoved his shoulder, “Believe me, if I wanted to sleep with someone it would not be  _ you _ .”

“Ouch, Doc. Woundin’ me.” He put his hand over his heart, but he knew that she had no interest in him, or any men, for that matter. It was all just a game, always had been, “How will I ever go on?”

“I'm sure you'll manage.”

“Cold, Doc. Real cold.” He grinned and then held out his hand to Lena for the bottle of beer, taking a drink when she passed it over.

Angela narrowed her eyes at him and then raised an eyebrow at Reinhardt.

“What? They have been sharing it!”

Angela sighed and shook her head, “Just  _ one.  _ All of you. It's barely noon!”

“Yes ma'am!” Jesse called as she left, then turned back to the oven. “I'm more interested in the food anyway.”

A few hours later found Jesse stretched out on the ground of one of the outdoor ranges, stomach full of stew and sun making him sluggish. He was safe here anyway. This range was tucked away in one of the coves, out of sight of prying eyes but near enough to the ocean to hear the waves crashing on the rocks. A quick nap certainly wouldn't--

The roar of carrier engines woke him almost as soon as he'd drifted off. Huh, Brigitte must have dragged ole Torb away. Well, at least it'd get everyone off his back for a bit. He shoved himself up and holstered Peacekeeper. Wouldn't hurt to go say hi.

The hangar was in chaos when he got there, and shrill beeps and bwoops rang out over shouts and yells. He soon found out why when he rounded the corner and found himself feet from with the barrel of a sentry-mode Bastion.

His hands went up immediately, as a “Whoa now,” escaped his lips. 

Everyone froze, and the entire hangar grew deathly quiet as Jesse stood stock-still, waiting for the Bastion to rip him apart. There was no chance of surviving a hail of Bastion bullets straight to his torso at this range. 

A small yellow bird flitted around his shoulders and landed, pecking softly at his bangs while chirping happily to itself. He tried not to move and disturb it but his arms were starting to get tired. Whatever happened, the Bastion chirruped back and then returned to its recon mode, lights blue and unthreatening.

Jesse breathed out a sigh of relief as the Bastion held out its hand and the bird hopped over to rest on the Bastion's shoulder. He'd live another day as long as he wasn't stupid. He hesitantly held out his left hand to the Bastion, with a sheepish grin, “Howdy there. Name's Jesse.”

It looked down with a curious, “Bwee?” Then, it held out its hand and shook Jesse's with a much more cheerful array of beeps.

Jesse grinned and dipped his head, “Nice t’ meet ya, buddy. Mind if I get by?”

“Bweeeooo.” The Bastion stepped aside and let him pass, much to his relief. He tried not to be tense when it tromped after him, but that was easier said than done. Still, no one in front of him tensed too much, so he didn't either.

“McCree! They didn't tell me you'd be here!” Torbjorn held out his right hand and Jesse was suddenly thankful that they had lost the same arm.

“I don't think they knew I'd be stayin’.” He chuckled as he shook the engineer's hand.

“Not been here long then?”

“Eh, 'bout a week? Got myself in some trouble n’ had a few favors called in on me.”

“Some trouble…” Torbjorn looked him over with one eyebrow raised, then settled on his metal arm, “Don't suppose it'd be the same trouble that lost you that arm, would it?”

“Huh? Ah, naw. That's been gone. Y'know, bar brawls and dragon fights ‘n all that.” He winked, repeating the engineer's own stories back at him and earning a shake of “The Claw” for his efforts.

“Now, I remember why I didn't miss you.”

Jesse gasped, feigning hurt.

“Don't let him lie to you. You should see his workshop. He kept tabs on every news article you showed up in.” Brigitte leaned in with a grin.

“I making sure the damn fool hadn't gotten himself killed.”

“Aw, I knew ya cared.” He grinned as he hopped back and away from a snap of “The Claw”. “What'd I tell ya Rein?”

“Get outta here ya nuisance.” Torbjorn waved him off. “And take that bot with ya. Maybe it'll listen to you!”

“Bweep?”

“Yes you, go with him! I got work t’ do!”

“Ya heard 'im, buddy. C'mon, I'll show ya around.”

The Bastion gave him a few happy chirps and trudged after him as he headed out of the hangar and towards the rest of the base. Up above, movement caught Jesse's eye and he glanced up to see the faintest glimpse of the archer moving away from one of the cliffs above. Well, at least no one had to explain that the Bastion was friendly. 

Jesse didn't particularly like the guy, but he enjoyed the competition and, for Genji's sake, he would have at least warned Hanzo that the Bastion on base was friendly and pointing a weapon at it was not in the archer's best interests.

“Bweeeooo?” The Bastion had stopped and Jesse turned to find it plucking a small white flower from in between the cracks in the sidewalk and then holding it out gingerly. “Bwoop!”

Jesse chuckled and accepted with a tip of his hat. A grin spread when the Bastion imitated the gesture and then he tucked the flower into his belt, next to his extra bullets. “C'mon darlin’, I think I know jus’ the place for you.”

Jesse made sure to show the Bastion how to get back in the Watchpoint, and where was dangerous before leading the giant curious omnic down a path to a alcove that would be filled with flowers this time of year. 

“BWEEEE!” The Bastion practically ran past him to go sit in the field of flowers, carefully plucking sticks and bits of grass to hand to the little yellow bird. Jesse settled next to them and occasionally, the little bird would land on his hat and, by the sounds of it, peck at the decorations on his hat band. Then, it would fly back to the Bastion and settle on the omnic's shoulder.

At some point, the omnic started beeping to itself, quiet and melodic. Singing. Jesse chuckled, and once he'd placed the tune, whistled along in kind. That seemed to tickle it. 

They settled there until the sun began to set. Jesse's stomach growling brought him out of the relaxed stupor he'd slipped into. It was hard not to rest easy with a friendly Bastion watching over him. He groaned, pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes. Bastion was watching the sunset through the trail they'd walked to get here.

Jesse smiled and gave the Bastion a soft whistle to get its attention. It spun at the waist, whistling back. This damn bot was the cutest thing. His smile spread wider as he gestured at the trail. “C'mon darlin’. Let's head inside. We need t’ find out where you're stayin’.”

The Bastion chattered back at him in a series of whistles and beeps, and Jesse wished for a moment he could understand. He'd gladly have a conversation with it, if only he understood. He guessed some of the charm was that he couldn't. It was like talking to a cat that meowed back every time you said something. Easy to pretend that you weren't being judged. Well, maybe cat was the wrong analogy for not being judged, but it was similar.

Lena met them at the top of the trail, looking apprehensive. “Oh there you are, love! We were looking for you!”

“Why? I ain't runnin' off. Got a new buddy, that'd be rude.”

Behind him, Bastion added on a few whistles that sounded suspiciously like, 'Yes, it would.’

“Well, after the hangar…”

“Aww, poor thing was just startled. I'm in one piece. No harm done.”

The Bastion moved, taking a few steps forward and in the corner of his eye, he saw its hand holding out a pale purple flower with a white center. It gave an apologetic set of whistles and held it out further.

“Awwww, look. ‘S givin’ ya one of the pretty ones! I'm jealous."

Lena looked shocked then reached out and delicately took the flower from the Bastion, much to its delight.

She tucked it in her hair with a giggle and then zipped away. “C'mon then, loves. You're gonna miss tea!”

Jesse heard the click as the omnic chambered a round. His heart pounded as he forced himself to turn slowly. Whipping around would only get him shot. The omnic was staring straight ahead, the light on its face red. “Whoa, hey there darlin’, it's alright. Lena does that. She ain't gonna hurt ya.”

The little bird flapped about in front of the Bastion's face until the light flickered back. The Bastion stepped back with a questioning and sad whistle.

“Hey, it's alright. No one got hurt. No one here's gonna hurt ya.”

That seemed to pacify the omnic, at least because when Jesse turned to keep walking, the Bastion followed.

“Lena tends to zip around. Reinhardt is real loud, likes t’ bang on things but ain't nobody gonna hurt ya.”

An affirmative set of beeps from the Bastion seemed to signal that it understood. Jesse almost headed in for dinner, but then realized the the poor omnic had nowhere to go and steered toward the sound of a hammer clanging away.

Jesse leaned on the door where Torbjorn had set to work on… something. “You're gonna miss dinner.”

“Brigitte brought me food earlier.”

Jesse chuckled, “Y'know Angie'll have yer hide if ya stay out here all night.”

“You her messenger now?”

“Who? Me?” Jesse barked out a laugh, “Naw, Angie's still tryin’ t’ get me t’ stop smokin’ and drinkin’.”

“Did you at least stop jumping in front of bullets?”

“Sorta, ain't had a reason to, so I traded up t’ wrestlin’ wolves.” Jesse grinned.

Torbjorn opened his mouth, and then the sentence seemed to click and the engineer put down his tools and turned, narrowing his good eye. “So you still have a death wish then.”

“Eh, if ya wanna call it that.” Jesse shrugged as he wrapped his left arm up in his serape.

“Does everyone else know?”

“That I'm a reckless sonuvabitch?” Jesse grinned, “Figure they've known that for years.”

“Your arm, idiot!”

“I mean, it's kinda hard to miss.” Jesse grinned and then sighed as Torbjorn scowled at him. “Yeah, they know how I lost it. Angie caught on when she took my blood. Winston just flat out smelled it on me. Hanzo caught me fightin’ a wolf. I told everyone else who didn't know when I joined. I'm on probation 'til next month.”

Torbjorn scowled harder, “You're an idiot.”

“That's what everyone tells me, but I can't be too dumb. Stayed alive this long.”

“You've 'died’ at least six times, McCree. Angela bringing you back doesn't count.”   
  
“Eh, semantics. I’m still alive, ain’t I?”   
  
“Unfortunately.”   
  
Jesse gasped but didn’t take the comment to heart. “Anyway, figured ya oughta know. Since ya’ve been keepin’ tabs on me… and since tellin’ everyone is kinda part of my probation.”   
  
“Just don’t give me a reason to shoot you, McCree.”   
  
“I won’t, I’m not a danger t’ people. I get a little ornery, but I ain’t gonna maul no one. I lucked out and got one of Angie’s wolves. I’m pretty conscious of what’s goin’ on.”   
  
Torbjorn grunted and went back to work.   
  
“So, where’s our friend here stayin’?”   
  
The Bastion gave a curious beep as if it acknowledged that it was being spoken about.   
  
“I suppose in here, away from anyone who might scare it.”   
  
“Probably best. Lena startled ‘em before we headed over. No one got hurt, but still. Wrong person at the wrong time could end up shot full'a holes..”   
  
“Been working on that.”   
  
“If ya ask me, ‘s kinda like approachin’ a scared pup. Don’ move too quick or get too loud and yer okay.”   
  
“Yeah, only that puppy has a gun for an arm, a gatling gun on its back and turns into a tank when angry.” 

“Could be worse. Could have homin’ missiles…” Jesse stopped as a look of dread crossed his face, “Don’t make it have homin’ missiles.”   
  
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”   
  
“Somethin’ tells me ya would, have and hopefully, reconsidered.”   
  
The Bastion whistled in confusion and Jesse chuckled, “No worries, darlin’. It’s alright. Why don’t ya go get comfortable for the night? I’ll come see ya in the mornin’.”   
  
“I’m beginning t’ think you  _ like  _ the damn thing.”   
  
“It’s kinda hard not t’ like someone that don’t give ya sass or judge ya.”   
  
“Give it time. It just doesn’t know you well enough. Some of us just judge you harder.”   
  
“And yet y’all still miss me.”

“We  _ say _ we miss you.”   
  
“Well, that’s rude. Jesus, why do I keep comin’ back?”   
  
Torbjorn snorted and then waved him off, “Get out of my workshop, I can’t work with you constantly talking.”   
  
Jesse’s stomach growled again and he chuckled. “Probably oughta go get dinner anyhow. Guess I’ll see ya later, need ya t’ check out my arm when ya have time.”   
  
“Yes, yes. I’ll get to it once I work on the Watchpoint’s security. Winston says Talon broke in and we can’t have that.”   
  


“Yeah, so I heard. Have a good night.”   
  
Torbjorn waved him off again and Jesse turned to head for dinner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really just wanted to upload a chapter tbh. It's not a surplus, I'm eating into my buffer but _things are happening y'all_ and I want to get y'all to the stuff I'm writing now.


	25. Chapter 25

_Thirty points_. Hanzo stared at the screen first in shock and then aggravation. The idiot cowboy had not only managed to beat him some time yesterday before leading that omnic around like it was a lost puppy, but he’d done so in almost record time. He squinted at the screen, then the range as if the two were conspiring against him and somehow aiding the cowboy.

No, that was impossible. He had to be cheating. There had to be some exploit in the system that allowed him to gain so many points in such short amount of time. As far as Hanzo was aware, he couldn't swing a bullet around something like that old movie from before even Overwatch's time, but there was that… ability of his. Had he used that? Hanzo narrowed his eyes at the range. No, probably not. The sheer luck required to get a line of enemies large enough on the first try was ridiculously improbable.

“Athena,” He called to the AI. He was determined to figure out how McCree had done it. Clever hacking? Turning all the civilians into enemy targets? That seemed like something he might do. 

“Yes, Agent Shimada?”

“Could you give me a detailed list of the range scores for the past week?”

“Of course, I'll send it to your tablet.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

A few short moments later, his tablet chimed and Hanzo fished it out of his bag, pulling up the data with furrowed brows.

 

 

 

> _J. McCree: 10 | 10(X) | 10 | 9 | 9 | 10(X) | 10(X) …_  
>  _[See 33 more]_  
>  _Total Score: 423/500_  
>  _Time: 3:47_  
>    
>  _H. Shimada: 10(X) | 10(X) | 9 | 10(X) | 9 | 10 | 10 …_  
>  _[See 33 more]_  
>  _Score: 393/500_  
>  _Time: 4:27_  
>    
>  _H. Shimada: 10 | 10 | 10 | 10(X) | 9 | 9 | 9 …_  
>  _[See 33 more]_  
>  _Score: 385/500_  
>  _Time: 4:15_  
>    
>  _J. McCree…_
> 
>  

Hanzo added up the scores and then jotting them down to the side. 398, 392, 380. He scrolled, jotting down the real scores, and then snorted. The cowboy wasn't cheating after all. He was speedrunning. Hanzo sighed as he put the tablet back in his bag.

As much of a pity it was to not have more evidence of suspicious behavior, Hanzo was slightly delighted that the cowboy would give him a challenge to hone his skills on. Without Genji around there was no one even close to challenging his scores. Not on the range at least. In the simulators, surprisingly it was Tracer that gave him a challenge, though most of that was entirely due to her chronal accelerator. Nothing could catch her, so she dispatched most challenges in mere moments. The cowboy's scores, on the other hand, were oddly lacking though they had increased rapidly in the last week. Probably due to his injury, Hanzo decided.

“Athena, start the round.”

“Of course, Agent Shimada.”

He pulled three arrows from his quiver and took a deep breath. As the targets began to cycle down the range, he let his reflexes take over and only marked the targets with the briefest of thoughts. He released the first arrow as soon as he could see the first enemy target. The next two arrows followed the first, dropping the enemies targets almost as soon as they had appeared.

The next two made him growl under his breath as they appeared. Civilians blocking his shot on the enemy behind. They were wasting precious time.

With bared teeth, he loosed the next arrow in an arc around the civilian targets almost as soon as he had a shot. The civilians cycled around a curve, bringing another target in line of sight and it soon fell like the rest. He repeated the motions for the nest 35 targets, then turned to see his score.

 

 

> _H. Shimada - 436 | 3:42_  
>  _J. McCree - 423 | 3:47_

 

It wasn’t a thirty point lead but it would do for now. He was content to leave the cowboy in second today. Now that he'd discovered the scoring system for this particular training mode, it would be no time at all before he had perfect scores on this one too. Pity he couldn't see McCree's face when the cowboy saw that he'd been beaten. It could be worth a laugh, but likely would just end up with more trouble than it was worth. Oh well, he'd just have to do without.

After just one simulator run though, Hanzo was… restless. He slung Stormbow over his back, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He wished he still had some of those cookies, but he'd eaten them all within three days, despite the internal voice of reason saying he shouldn't. He didn't have cookies and the indoor facilities just weren't enough today. He was tired of the same visuals with predictable targets. He wanted another mission. Just a change of scenery. A _challenge_.

He sighed as he headed for the outdoors. Climbing the cliffs nearby wasn't a challenge, but it wasn't simulator runs inside an air-conditioned virtual reality room. He was _tired_ of simulator runs inside an air-conditioned virtual reality room. He stopped and listened as the dull roar of voices neared. Everyone else was finishing breakfast, by the sounds of it. If Genji had been there, he might have suffered the headache of being near the others, but Genji was in Nepal. Again. He had joined this… organization at the request of his brother and now his brother wasn't even here! He wished he could be angry but it was just one more thing that hadn't changed. One more thing to prove that the cyborg was Genji. The jingle of spurs was enough to get him moving. He had no intention of dealing with the cowboy right now.

 

\---

 

Whether he had stumbled on the omnic or it had simply known he was there all along, Hanzo didn't know. He _did_ know that he'd been prepared to be utterly disintegrated in a hail of bullets when he dropped down into that hidden meadow he'd discovered in his first weeks here and found himself not far from the seated Bastion. However, it had just looked up, made a curious _bwoop_ and offered him one of the flowers it had plucked. Well, more like the cluster of flowers.

Hanzo stared at it for a moment, then at the omnic. It was offering him flowers. Then, he sighed and reached out to take the gift. Perhaps the Bastion was not so bad. Child-like, definitely, but not unpleasant. The flowers were lavender-colored with much more vivid sepals and long white stamen. Certainly better than spending time around the others. Well, most of them. It wasn’t Reinhardt’s fault he was loud and excitable, nor Winston’s that he got uncomfortable and nervous. Besides those two things, the two of them weren’t that bad to be around, and they were at the very least civil with him.

He settled on the ground nearby with the flowers across his lap. He closed his eyes and breathed in, listening to the bird and bot chirp back and forth. It would be a perfect spot to meditate. The Bastion didn't know who he was. It didn't judge him or warily skirt him. Perhaps he could find company in its presence while Genji was away.

He shifted his weight, going through the steps to ease himself into meditation. It was peaceful here and yet-- he plucked at a blade of grass and rolled it between his fingers. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but his mind was restless. Not with alarm, self-loathing, pent-up magic or terrible, intrusive thoughts… just restlessness. He plucked another blade of grass, and turned it over a couple times. His eyes traced the veins and then he pinched it again, about to roll it into a crushed ball when he suddenly remembered a trick he'd been taught once on his travels. He'd known a different version, using a leaf, but whereas the leaf whistle could actually make music, the grass whistle just made him laugh.

His first attempts garnered little more than pathetic whines, but he shifted his hands and tried again until he was rewarded with a sharp squeaky _‘Pwee!’_ He chuckled at the noise, as well as the Bastion's confused noise. He blew on it again and looked over at Bastion, who chirped and then and then imitated the sound. The two continued until a second grass whistle, closer to the Watchpoint and out of sight, joined in. For a moment, Hanzo was reluctant to continue. Imagine, one of the other members finding him amusing himself with a grass whistle and a Bastion. However, Bastion responded to the other grass whistle without any hesitation and Hanzo couldn't help but join in. His longer whistles soon devolved into short, staccato bursts perforated by wheezes of laughter. His 'partner’ on the other hand, seemed immune to the silly noises and seemed content to try to play a 'tune’ around the bursts.

Hanzo dropped the blade to cover his mouth, shaking with breathless laughter. He wasn't sure who had joined in, but it didn't matter either. He'd managed to have a bit of… childish fun that he usually couldn't bring himself to partake in. The Bastion wouldn't judge him and his partner in the silliness would never have to know. He pushed himself up, brushing the dirt and thatch from his clothing. Bastion gave a confused noise and then rose, tromping after him as he headed back up to the Watchpoint. He had hoped to climb the cliffs now that his restlessness has subsided, but found he didn't have the heart to leave the omnic behind. Near the Watchpoint, he glanced around to see who might have whistled along with him but the only person in sight was McCree, sitting on the edge of one of the shipping containers and staring out over the ocean smoking a cigar.

Hanzo instinctively curled his lip and quickened his pace while the Bastion seemed more interested in the cowboy and trotted off toward him instead. Thankfully, the cowboy didn't notice him. He was too busy greeting the Bastion as if he'd known it for years, allowing Hanzo to slip inside without incident.

At least not until he got to the kitchen. He'd expected Reinhardt. He could smell meat cooking and hear the giant's laughter. He hadn't expected the muscular young woman next to him.

“Ah! Hanzo!” Reinhardt's face lit up, “Good to see you! Have you met Brigitte? She is my goddaughter!”

Hanzo froze for a moment, not expecting to be introduced to anyone. He composed himself quickly, then bowed. “Good afternoon.”

 _“Hej hej_!” She chirped back cheerfully, bowing at the waist respectfully. “Reinhardt has told me a lot about you!”

Hanzo winced internally. What kind of things had the knight said? She didn't seem suspicious of him, or if she was, she didn't show it. “I see. I wish I could say the same.”

“That is not my fault, my friend,” Reinhardt teased with a toothy smile.

Hanzo opened his mouth to apologize but was quickly cut off by Reinhardt again.

“But I understand you are busy with your training! I wish everyone on based would follow your example!”

Hanzo chuckled softly. The group certainly did need discipline. Some more than others.

“Would you like to help us cook?” Brigitte offered, gesturing to the spread of pots. “We could get to know each other better!”

Hanzo hesitated at the offer, “I'm afraid am unfamiliar with cooking anything other than--”

Brigitte gave a dismissive noise, waving him off in a way that made him bristle slightly. Pity. She had started so respectful.

“We'll teach you!”

“Brigitte…” Reinhardt scolded gently, “Leave him be.”

It wouldn't hurt to take a break, especially among members of the team that didn't judge his every move. “It's fine, Reinhardt. It might do me good to learn something new.”

Reinhardt responded with a surprised bark of laughter and then waved him over. “I managed to find a butcher in town that carries pork and lamb!”

Hanzo's eyes lit up as soon as Reinhardt mentioned pork. He had appreciated all of the fresh fish they could get on the Watchpoint, but he'd found himself missing the taste of tonkotsu ramen lately. Possibly because it had always been Genji's favorite. It was a shame he wasn't here.

They set about making boiled potatoes, something Hanzo had become quite familiar with when Reinhardt cooked.

“So you train a lot, Hanzo?” Brigitte asked as she pulled some broth off of the pork roast that Reinhardt had cooking.

“Yes, I-- it is habit to stick to a daily routine.”

“Wonderful! Maybe we can train together sometime!”

Hanzo wasn't sure how he felt about her trying to involve herself in his personal life. Lunch had been a compromise on his part if only because Reinhardt was here to keep her in line, but he hadn't intended for her to take it as an invitation into his routine.

A voice in his head reminded that she could provide him with a sparring partner in Genji's absence and he paused from stirring onions into the potatoes. “Perhaps.”

She seemed content with that answer and went back to making gravy from the broth she'd pulled from the roast.

Despite Brigitte's mentions of 'getting to know each other’, the three barely spoke while they prepared lunch, except to ask for ingredients. Given the laughter that had echoed from the kitchen before he entered, Hanzo couldn't help but feel like he'd intruded on something. He shifted uncomfortably, thankful that this ill-advised decision was almost over.

As time ticked closer and closer to the food being finished, the sound of the other members meandering into the cafeteria rises. First a murmur, like a TV left on four rooms over. Then laughter and the sound gets louder. More voices join. Tracer's high and cheery chirps alongside Dr. Zeigler’s lower, but not wholly unpleasant tone. Music joins the voices, signalling that Lúcio had joined them which meant that Hana Song wouldn't be far behind. If Genji were here, he'd be with them. He waited for the sound of the cowboy, obnoxious and loud in everything he did. So far, nothing, just a gruff voice that seemed to be speaking to Dr. Zeigler and rising in both volume and indignation with every passing second.

Tracer had joined in, but they were too far to be more than unintelligible jumbles of sounds that resembled words.

“Sounds like Angela has managed to catch your father outside of his workshop, Brigitte!” Reinhardt chuckled.

She laughed along, and then the door opened. Hanzo glanced up and then froze. McCree. He hadn't heard his spurs. Hadn't heard _him_. He looked to be wearing workout clothing, sweat gathered on the front of his undershirt.

“Brigitte! Didn't get t’ see ya properly when ya came in!”

Then again, McCree hadn't noticed him either. Perhaps Reinhardt was blocking his view it he just wasn't paying attention.

Brigitte laughed as she spun to go hug him, “ _Hej,_ Jesse!”

He received her with a bark of laughter and a few protests, or perhaps warnings, about being sweaty, “How ya been?”

“Good! And you?”

“Same ole’. How's yer ma?”

“She’s good! She's not very happy that Papa decided to come back here, though.”

“Bet not…”

Hanzo frowned and tuned them out, focusing instead on the pot of potatoes that wasn't quite finished. Brigitte spoke to McCree like they were siblings. Suddenly, Hanzo found himself mistrusting her intentions to get close to him, despite the obvious fact that they hadn't seen each other in years. He tensed, finding the cowboy's drawl grating.

He gripped the spoon, stirring a bit too hard and scraping the side of the pot on accident. McCree stopped, falling silent as his head snapped up and then gave a nervous chuckle upon spotting Hanzo. “Huh. Smelled like it was ready, but guess I misjudged. I’m gonna go get cleaned up and leave y'all to it. Save me some will ya, Rein?”

“Of course, of course.”

The speed at which McCree retreated from the room afterward left his head spinning. Almost like the cowboy was afraid of him. Then again, of everyone on base, Hanzo was the only one that could very well get the cowboy kicked out. No one else had the desire to.

“Did I… miss something?” Brigitte seemed as dumbstruck as Hanzo was.

“Jesse and Hanzo...” Reinhardt waved his hand as if searching for a word, “Have conflicting personalities.”

_‘Because he is two-faced, obnoxious and has the manners of a toddler mixed with a preteen that has just learned to swear.’_

“That's weird.” Brigitte frowned, “Hanzo is so polite and Jesse's so charming. I thought for sure they would get along.”

Hanzo held in a snort at the mention of McCree being anything near ‘charming’. McCree was about as charming as a feral cat with rabies.

“They…had some disagreements when Jesse first arrived.”

“Do disagreements with McCree usually end with his gun being drawn?”

Reinhardt let out a humorless bark of laughter, “I am not so sure anymore. They didn't when I last saw him. Jesse… he was very--” The giant breathed in deeply, face screwing up, “Rambunctious, when he was younger. Very… quick to anger and often found himself in Ja-- Commander Morrison's office.”

“I couldn't imagine _why._ ” The words slipped before he could bite them back and he frowned. He wasn’t one of them. Why had he done that? He should have just--

Reinhardt laughed before Hanzo could apologize.

Brigitte, on the other hand didn't seem as pleased by his comment, putting her hands on her hips, “Jesse is a good person! I'm sure he had his reasons for--”

“He thinks you cheated.” Reinhardt's gaze settled on Hanzo. “In New Mexico.”

Hanzo paused, still holding the pot of potatoes from where he had intended to drain them. “That is what he is angry with me about?”

Reinhardt shook his head, “He didn't even tell you. Why am not surprised?”

“Why would Jesse think you cheated?” Brigitte leaned around Reinhardt.

Hanzo shifted slightly, then sighed as he continued to the sink to drain off the potatoes. “He is not… entirely wrong on the matter. Nor am I proud of the way that fight ended but I didn't think he would listen to me if I told him there were police on the way. So I tried to end the fight quickly.”

“Have you tried telling him that?” Brigitte pressed, “Jesse is really understanding, I'm sure if you just explained, he'd come around.”

“I would rather not interact with him at all.” Hanzo mumbled as he turned his face away from the steam rising up. It wouldn't burn him, but it was unpleasant to breathe.

Brigitte sighed but then went back to the vegetables she had started cooking with a shake of her head. Good. Maybe she would choose to leave him alone and stick to that stupid cowboy.

Reinhardt pulled the meat from the pot where it had been slowly cooking and poured the broth off into another container. “You may have to eventually, Hanzo. There will be missions where Winston may need you both.”

“If he can be professional, then so can I, but I don't have any desire to try to be friends with him. He is hot-headed and reckless which are not qualities I seek in people close to me.” Hanzo poured the bacon Reinhardt had cooked into the potatoes and mixed it in, glancing up at the giant a few times. “Judging by his reaction earlier, I doubt he would feel differently.”

Reinhardt chuckled, “Your brother is also reckless… and hot-headed.”

“I didn't have a choice in my brother… nor would I change anything about him if I did, but one hot-headed, reckless fool is enough for me. I do not need more gray hair.”

Reinhardt barked out a laugh as he pulled out plates and utensils for everyone and then began dishing out three plates. He passed two of them to Brigitte and Hanzo, while the third went into the microwave. With a chuckle, Reinhardt shooed Hanzo and Brigitte out before calling the others.

Hanzo was already in his seat when McCree made in back to the cafeteria. Reinhardt was still in the kitchen, waiting on him it seemed by the way the two exited the kitchen not too long after with plates.

Hanzo was once again people-watching, now with fresh targets in the form of Brigitte and her father. Hanzo wouldn't have expected the two to have any blood relationship at all, but she called him Papa. Perhaps she looked like her mother. They had joined back in as if they had never left. Reinhardt and Brigitte's father, Torbjorn he guessed from the files he'd read, were drinking. One beer each, laughing and poking fun at each other as if they were brothers rather than old friends.

McCree seemed much more relaxed, but then again, everyone seemed to have their attention on the two newest arrivals. He was talking through a crooked grin, crow's feet forming at the corners of his eyes. He hadn't expected the cowboy to even touch the potatoes, given that Hanzo had cooked them, but his plate was stacked high with meat, vegetables, and potatoes. The same one Reinhardt had set aside earlier, he realized. The cowboy hadn't even side-eyed them a little.

If he could be professional… Hanzo chewed on his cheek. Perhaps he should apologize for accusing McCree of being a traitor. After all, he had been mistaken, at least this time. The cowboy had betrayed Deadlock, that much was clear. Then again, he had betrayed his brother. He picked at his food as he considered the options and how McCree would react to an apology.

 _‘Jesse is really understanding…’_ Hanzo sighed. There was no guarantee the cowboy was staying. Therefore, no reason to force himself to interact with the obnoxious fool, yet. If the cowboy stayed, then perhaps Hanzo would consider it again.

His comm lit up with a summons to the briefing room when he had finished his lunch. His eyes flicked to the line that showed who else received the message. Hana and Lúcio. He sighed and confirmed that he would be there. At least he would be getting off the base and away from McCree.

 

\---

 

“--simple extermination. A large coven of vampires recently appeared in Mexico, around Sabinas. There have been 23 missing persons and another 14 confirmed deaths in the past three days.”

Hanzo grimaced at the number.

“Besides destroying the coven, I'd like you three to recover as many missing persons as possible, or at the very least, proof of their deaths so their families can have closure.”

“Man, this is super messed up.” Lúcio sighed, shaking his head. “I know vampires gotta feed, but you'd think they'd have figured out a better way by now!”

Winston nodded, “You'd think.” He shuffled some papers. “Lúcio, you mentioned that your equipment could have effects on the vampires?”

“Oh, uh yeah. They don't like certain frequencies. I can work it in under my healing tracks and keep them away. That's how me and Hana usually deal with them. If we were drawing their attention, Shimada-san could probably pick them off.”

Hanzo gave the DJ an approving look. He knew that Lúcio was capable, given the missions that the DJ and Hana had completed as a pair, but he'd always assumed it was Hana that did the strategizing given her military history.

“We should make sure nothing gets to him if we're going to do that.” Hana pointed out, “If he's too far, and it's a large coven, we might not be able to help if a bunch notice him.”

Hanzo wanted to bristle, if only because of his pride, but she wasn't wrong. He could get overrun and while he could potentially save himself, it was a risk to do so. Plus, vampires tasted horrible.

“We can scope out the area when we get there.” Hanzo nodded. “It shouldn't be hard to find the best area to trap them.”

“Awesome!” Lúcio beamed. “Sounds like we're gonna do great!”

Hanzo smiled slightly. The DJ's optimism was infectious and he couldn't help but think that they would do just fine. After all, it was _just vampires._

\---

 

Hana was waiting outside the jet when he arrived. It appeared as though her summoning rig was already loaded up and she had gotten restless waiting around. He boarded and took his seat, slinging his bag into the seat next to him and then setting his quiver next to it. He tucked the shoulder strap over the bad so that it wouldn't fall and then laid Stormbow across his lap and waited. After a few moments, Hana stepped on board and then sat across from him. She was silent for a few moments, but looked as if she had something to say. Finally, she reached in her bag and pulled out something small and then held it out.

He smiled when the amulet fell from her hand, held by the string. An omamori. “Thank you,” He said with a bow and then tied it to his obi.

Lúcio wasn't far behind, skating onto the jet and flopping into a seat with his gear and a beaming smile. “Alright! Everyone's here! Let's get movin’!”

The jet touched down what felt like only minutes later even though Hanzo knew it was several hours. Unlike the trip back from New Mexico a week and a half ago, he'd found Hana, at least, to be pleasant company. Lúcio was pleasantly optimistic, while Hana seemed to be a bit more realistic. When Lúcio had put on his headphones to make sure the frequencies would be right beneath the music, Hana had changed the subject to less cheery things and admitted that there was something that felt… odd about McCree. Hanzo couldn't agree with her more. At least he wasn't the only one who saw it.

The three stepped out on the outskirts of Sabinas. The jet would be returning to take Reinhardt, Brigitte, Torbjorn and Dr. Zeigler to a location in Russia. Something about Talon. Winston hadn't been specific. Not that it particularly mattered. That was their mission. His was to kill a lot of vampires. He couldn't help but think he'd gotten the better mission.

As they walked down the streets of the outskirts, Hanzo frowned at the emptiness. It was early afternoon. The streets should have been bustling.

“Man, I have a bad feeling about this.” Lúcio finally voiced what Hanzo had been thinking. “Did... Winston say how big this coven was?”

Hanzo swallowed down the realization of what Lúcio was implying, “No. We should call him. We may require more than three people for this mission.” As much as his pride didn't want to admit that they needed help, if the coven was the size of a small residential district or worse, a portion of the city, there was little Hanzo could realistically do about it.

“Who else could come?” Hana argued, “The cowboy is on house arrest and leaving him alone on base seems like a recipe for disaster. Everyone else is heading for Russia besides Lena and Winston and Genji's in Nepal!”

“Hana, he's not that bad!” Lúcio protested. “I've been talking to him, he's a pretty cool dude actually. I mean he's got some stuff going on, and he even admits he's got a few problems but he's working on them. Cut him some slack, you guys.”

Hanzo sent a sideways look at Hana when Lúcio turned around to look at their surroundings. He might have considered apologizing for New Mexico, but _someone_ needed to keep an eye on him. The look on her face said she had few intentions of changing her mind.

“Okay so we don't really have any backup, we'll just find a way to lure them into a trap.” Lúcio continued, “Maybe we can bottleneck them in one of these buildings, and then just let Hana take care of them with the rig?”

“And what happens when the bottleneck fills with bodies? Or worse, ash?” Hanzo countered. “We could get stuck.”

Lúcio gave a soft whine. “This is so messed up.”

They finally set up in a warehouse where Lúcio thought that the acoustics would bounce the frequency around and keep them safe. There were some thralls wandering about that Hanzo quietly subdued and took to a safe place until the Queen could be disposed of. Evening brought a new kind of tenseness as they all took their positions.

As the sun finally sank below the horizon, Hanzo realized their mistake. The warehouse might have been a perfect spot to defend...if its basement hadn't been filled to the brim with vampires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Friiiday~
> 
> Lots of stuff going on in this chapter, and I can't wait to drop the next 3 on y'all ;P


	26. Chapter 26

The thing about getting a good night’s sleep was that it never lasted for very long. At least not for Jesse. Something would always be there to fuck it up. Today? Today it was a comm screeching at him in the most unholy manner at what he assumed was probably somewhere between oh-dark-thirty and fuck off o’clock.

Jesse groaned and rolled, shielding his eyes against the blinding light radiating from what he swore was god damn miniature sun on his nightstand. Holding it faced away, he blinked and let his eyes adjust before turning it back and hissing anyway.  
  
04:32 Local Time. Fuck. His comm started ringing again. Why Lúcio? His brows knitted together before he answered. “McCree.”   
  
_“Hey man, we really need some help!”_   
  
Jesse’s blood froze in his veins and then he was up and moving. “Yeah, whaddya need?”   
  
_“I dunno man! Anything! No one can read the signs out here, and this place is crawl-- Get back!”_ There was a reverb of sound over the comm, making Jesse grimace and tilt his head away.   
  
“Alright, slow down. Where are y’all?   
  
_“Uh… Winston sent us to Sabinas.”_   
  
“Sabi-- Coahuila?” He puzzled it over. “In Mexico, right? Winston ain't told me nothin’, said he can't 'til my probations up.”

_“Yeah, we're in Mexico! We set up over the nest and--”_

“Shit! Y’all what?!” Jesse gave a noise of alarm and stumbled into sweats and an undershirt. “Fuck, alright. I’m up. Where are y’all specifically? Street sign, building, anythin’.”  
  
_“Uh… We went up a big road? It’s the biggest one here, I don’t know! We ran out of an industrial area and ended up in a small town? I can't really tell. It’s dark, man!”_

From a bit further away, Jesse could hear an unintelligible grumble from what sounded like Hanzo.

“That’s… alright.” Jesse sighed. He barely remembered Sabinas, “D'ya know which direction yer headed?”  
  
_“I dunno, man! We’re kinda busy running from an army!”_   
  
“Okay, okay. Hold on. I gotta go violate my probation.”   
  
_“Wait, what?!”_   
  
“I ain’t supposed t’ be doin’ any of this! But I'll take the heat, don't y'all worry. I ain’t lettin’ y’all get killed cause the monkey can’t do his damn research.”   
  
_“You know, he doesn’t--”_   
  
“Fine, scientist. Whatever. Not the point. I’ll ask for forgiveness later.”   
  
Jesse bolted down the hall, straight for the only room that he knew had a computer he could access easily. God he hoped that Max hadn’t changed the code. Or that the code wasn’t temporary. Or that Athena hadn’t wiped the code, or any million other reasons the damn code wouldn’t work right.   
  
He almost typed the code wrong with how hard his hands were shaking but, to his relief, the door hissed open. He flopped in the chair at his old desk, ignoring the discarded paperwork that he never finished in favor of booting up the now outdated computer. It wasn’t fancy but he could probably get some satellite images from it.   
  
“Can I help you with anything, Jesse?” Spectre chimed.   
  
“I dunno, darlin’.” He mumbled tiredly as he typed in his own codes by muscle memory and then stopped and erased them. “Sure hope Max never changed his password. Or, well… kinda hope he did.”   
  
_“Man, who are you talking to?”_   
  
Right, Lúcio was still on the phone.   
  
“Jus’ an old friend.”   
  
_“You got a lot of old friends…”_

“Well, ‘course I do. Ain’t ya seen how charmin’ I am?”  
  
The resulting silence was telling of the deadpan look on the DJ’s face.   
  
_“No really man, who are you talking to? You better not have anymore ‘Max’s in the closet.”_   
  
“You say that like he was ever in it to begin with.” Jesse retorted. Spectre had gotten him into Max’s login and was now giving him hell about his choice in computer.   
  
“This would be much easier on Max’s computer, Jesse.”   
  
“Yeah well, _Max’s computer_ runs some Linux bullshit--”   
  
“It’s not Lie-nux, Jesse. It’s _Linux._ ”   
  
“It is also four in the goddamn mornin’ and I just woke up t’ three agents in mortal fuckin’ danger, _Spectre._ I’m not in the mood t’ be arguin’ with an AI over the pronunciation of an operating system! Especially not the same AI that _refuses_ to be housed on the same tower as Athena because _apparently_ ‘she’s a shitty roommate’.”   
  
“She uses _six cores_ to open a door!”   
  
On the other side of the phone, Lúcio was wheezing with laughter. The unintelligible voice that Jesse assumed was Hanzo did not seem as amused.   
  
_“Hey! Can we like, get some real help?”_ Hana’s voice cut over the call, _“Like I’m glad whoever you’re talking to can tell a good joke but we’re kinda_ **_going to die_ ** **.** _”_   
  
Jesse snapped back to the computer and set back to work. He pulled up the maps of the area, eyes flickering over them as his memory filled in what the sorely lacking and pathetically outdated ‘street view’ would not. “Do y’all see mountains on the horizon?”   
  
“...Yeah? Kinda? It’s dark, but I see some way off…”

“Good. That’s really helpful, actually. Means y’all are probably on 57, headed northwest.” Jesse chewed on his lip. “Now, if y’all weren’t runnin’ from shit that could smell ya a mile off, I’d tell y’all t’ hook a left ‘n head straight fer the river. Most shit ain’t good for trackin’ past that but y’all kinda went and kicked a hornet’s nest and gettin’ y’all out is… not my forte. Not remotely, anyway. On the ground would be a different story.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Jesse. I already took the liberty of contacting Max since your refusal to use Max’s computer will get them killed.”   
  
“ _Using_ his computer will get them killed! I don’t speak all that codin’ shit and ya know it.”   
  
“No, of course. Everything _you_ do is much less elegant.”   
  
“Oh fuck you too, darlin’.”   
  
_“Couldn’t the phone sex wait until after I learned to sleep sitting up?”_   
  
Jesse sputtered quietly when Max chimed in, trying to cover the speaker with his hand. “That’s not--!”   
  
_“It’s four in the morning, Jess. Yer--”_   
  
“Max--”   
  
“... _horny at--”_   
  
“Max.”   
  
_“...I mean really Jesse, I knew ya missed me but--”_   
  
“Max!”   
  
_“Screamin’ my name already…”_   
  
“Jesus fuckin’-- Max! This is a fuckin’ conference call!”   
  
_“Kinky.”_   
  
Jesse groaned, resting his head on the desk a little harder than necessary. “Lord, end me.”   
  
_“Is that a promotion?”_   
  
“Can we not do this while people are dyin’?”   
  
There was a heavy sigh and a flat, “I’m moving my satellites into position.”   
  
“They’re off Mexican Federal Highway 57, headed northwest 'round Sabinas.”   
  
There was silence for a long moment, and only the sounds of what Jesse could only assume was Ms. Song’s rig chugging along. Or maybe that was the guns. There was some screeching going on that sounded like vampires crumbling to dust.   
  
_“Did they ask for my help?”_ Max finally spoke up again.   
  
“Uh…” As far as he knew, the other two hadn’t even asked for _his_ , much less would want it if they knew. He’d seen the side-eyed looks Ms. Song gave him. “Not even sure they asked fer mine, ‘sides Lúcio. Well, ‘n Ms. Song asked fer some ‘real help’ which we both know ain’t me.”   
  
_"I'm sick of being accused of shit. They want my help, they ask for it."_   
  
Lúcio seemed to get the hint almost immediately and then the beeping of other comms joined the sound of vampires dying. _“I think we’d do better if you guys could hear them too…”_   
  
The chugging sound got louder as Hana joined and then immediately, a disgruntled noise. _“Should you even be in this call, cowboy? You’re not even supposed to know anything about missions.”_   
_  
_ “No, but if ya got a better plan that won’t get my ass reamed fifteen ways t’ Sunday and gets y'all back t’ Gibraltar in one piece, I’m all ears.”

 _“Really Hana, he knows this area and he’s got connections. He’s probably our best option.”_   
  
“ _Max_ is yer best option. I’m just middleman.” Honestly, Jesse would rather be sleeping. He’d rather be doing _anything_ but talking to a team where only _one_ person on the whole damn team even trusted him to do right by them, but he wouldn’t leave them hanging. It didn’t matter if they hated him. As long as they listened to him and Max long enough to get home safe, they could hate him to kingdom come.   
  
_“And what do you,”_ A strained grunt and the twang of a bowstring, _“stand to gain from this?”_   
  
Jesse couldn’t help the offended noise that slipped out, “Gain?! It’s four in the mornin’ here, I got woken up out of some decent sleep, I’m violating every damn rule of my probation fer people that can't stand me and yer askin’ me what I stand t’ gain?” He bit down the ‘fuck you’ and let out a long, slow breath through his nose, “Lúcio called me for help, so here I am. Ya want Max’s help, ya gotta ask. I ain’t no eye in the sky. Jus’ playin’ middleman.” 

There was silence for a moment and then an exasperated groan, _“Well,_ **_I_ ** _want his help. I don’t want to die gettin’ ripped apart by vampires!”_ Lúcio’s voice pitched up as another reverb echoed over the comm.   
  
_"Then first, shut off that fuckin' noise. I can't hear myself over the constant whine-- can't you hear that? It's like a goddamn dog whistle. No wonder they want to claw your face off."_

There was a shocked, “oh!” and then the music stopped. Jesse hadn’t really paid attention to it as painfully annoying as it was, because he figured it was interference or something, but when it shut off, he breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
_"Jesus, it's like walking into somebody's house at 3 am with a fucking air horn. That'll ward off John Q Bloodsucker but if you bring it on to their turf, you're asking for a fight."_   
  
Jesse chuckled as he stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it. “Ain’t real pleasant fer us of the canine sorts either.” 

_“So how do we get out of here?”_ It seemed Ms. Song had gotten over whatever mistrust she had in favor of living.   
  
_"I'm mobilizing an air lift out of Grand Mesa but you have to keep moving. Take a right at the next intersection.”_ _  
_

Jesse sighed with relief. At least majority rules seemed to have won Max over. Not that he blamed the hacker for being sick and tired of all this shit. Hell, he’d been real close to hanging up when Hanzo had gone and accused him of _gaining_ something from this headache and a half. Only his conscience and Lúcio had given him pause. 

_“That town you're walking up to? Aguhta? That's the heart of this coven. You're walking right into their territory smelling like dinner. Take a right, there is a butcher there. I need you to bust in the back door."_   
  
Jesse had a feeling he knew where this was heading. Well, at least he got the satisfaction of knowing the way Max’s escape plans usually went. Now, he was beginning to wonder if the hacker did some of this shit on purpose. Max certainly was petty enough.   
  
The other three went quiet except for the sounds of Ms. Song’s rig, the twang of a bow and the occasional sound of Lúcio’s amplifier until finally, there was the sound of someone slamming their shoulder into a door. Probably Hanzo, Jesse noted.   
  
"Beside the door there should be carcasses in bags to be disposed. Barricade the door as good as ya can and then pull off your armor because it's time to smell like something not delicious. Get some of the rotting blood from the trash and put it on your jugular, behind your ears, on your t zone, hip bones, up the spine, Ms. Song needs to apply it under the breasts--"

Two of them gave disgusted groans that ended in resigned sighs, but Lúcio seemed less on board with the idea, _“Oh man, what?! That’s messed up!”_

_“It is necessary. We can shower when we are not in danger of dying.”_ Hanzo didn’t seem pleased but the rustling from the other end of the line said that he was doing it anyway. _“Hold your breath. It will help.”_

Lúcio still gagged. Jesse turned the sound down so that the sound wouldn’t make him dry heave.

 _"Alright, everybody finished getting nice 'n gross? Good. Time t' get a move on. There's a front door to the place, open it up and walk out... and hope that they're still lookin' fer youse in the back."_ Max chuckled.

 _“Hope?”_ Hanzo grumbled with the hint of a ‘don’t jinx it’ in the tone. Jesse may have been familiar with that tone coming out of his own mouth on more than one mission.

 _“Well, if they aren’t, it’s gonna mean a full bath instead’a this little shit stain.”_   
  
_“Oh man, don’t play like that.”_   
  
“Oh he ain’t playin’, shoulda seen some of the shit Blackwatch did when shit went South. ‘M still mad at ya fer fuckin’ Nome, Yank.”   
  
_“The carcass of a rotting sperm whale can hide ‘n entire squad of black-ops guys in full gear, who knew?”_   
  
“Whatever yer smellin’, it will never be as bad as sitting in a whale for _six fuckin’ hours_ . Took me _weeks_ t’ get that smell off all my shit.”   
  
_“Whale? Ha! You have not smelled durian!”_   
  
“I, unfortunately, can say I have. I’m not sure who decided that shit was edible. Honestly, who the fuck even got near that and went, ‘yeah. I wanna eat that’.”

 _“Says the man from the country that makes hamburgers with donuts.”_   
  
“Why would ya-- Who would-- That’s gotta be a fair food from like 50 years ago.”   
  
_“Are you guys really talking about food right now?”_ Ms. Song groaned.   
  
“Well, I mean, it passes the time and keeps yer mind off the gross part of the job. How y’all doin’ over there?”   
  
_“Just great, cowboy.”_ She grumbled back.   
  
He sighed, “Y’all probably oughta get a move on before they figure out y’alls game.”   
  
A door opened and Jesse held his breath. Only the sound of the summoning rig trudging along. He let out a small sigh of relief.

 _“With any luck, they won’t notice youse till yer too far away t’ catch.”_ Max mused, though he somewhat doubted that was the case. A hive of vampires like this didn’t just _show up,_ there had to be something else running the show… and god did he hate being right.

 _“Yo! They’ve started movin’ again,”_ Max called over the comms, clearly alarmed and working his fingers over the keys as fast as he could move them. _“Keep moving and head for that large greenhouse in front of you. It’s time for plan B.”_

Jesse groaned. He knew where this was headed. “Max, we _can't_ blow anythin’ up. Overwatch ain't even sanctioned t’ _exist_ . Winston'll have _my head_ fer that.”

 _“Plan… C?”_ Max even sounded sheepish over the line. _“Plan C is just to book it. I need youse t’ buy me some time… it’s every inch as illegal but I’m 100% less likely t’ get caught.”_

“Can ya get me visual? I might be able t’ scope somethin’ out if I can see.” Jesse leaned towards the computer, “Everythin’ I got's more'n a decade old.”

“Including your fashion sense.” Spectre grumbled.

 _“I’ll see what I can manage,”_ Max called over the line. It took him physically wrenching control from Jesse and opening up a new program that created three boxes on his screen. _“I’m going to jail break their comms. Hanzo’s is the newest so it has the best camera on it.”_ Which was code for ‘that was the feed going into the largest box’.

Someone grumbled but Jesse couldn't tell who, if it was about or if it was about the jailbreaking or 'Plan B’.

As the boxes filled with camera feeds, Jesse started eyeing the surroundings. “Lucio, could ya do me a favor and point yer comm backwards? Need as much information as I can get.”

 _“Sure thing, man.”_ The camera shook and a hand darkened it before it flipped around and slowly wavered in and out of focus for a second. It focused back in on the eyes of what had to be at least a hundred vampires, sending a shudder down Jesse's spine. There were too many here. Something was very wrong about all of this. He took a few screenshots of the footage just in case.

“Right, so… problem is there's not a lot that y’ can do with an entire nest of vampires on yer tail in a residential area. Keep headin’ the way yer goin’ and don't stop 'til I say. There's not a whole lot once ya get over 23. All that empty space would be great fer pot shots. Particularly those of the rocket variety.”

 _“Great plan. So glad we called.”_ Ms. Song grumbled sarcastically.

Jesse ignored her, eyes switching between Hanzo's feed and Lucio's when the DJ spoke again.

_“Hey, Hana. Don't you stream from your rig?”_

_“Yeah?”_

Jesse caught on, “How many cameras ya got on that thing?”

_“A bunch.”_

_“I'mma need t’ borrow all of 'm, kay? Thanks.”_ Max chortled over the line as he started to traceback her previous feeds and bring up other feeds for Jesse to watch.

“Heads up, eight o'clock. Got a Leaper gainin’ fast.”

All of Ms. Song's cameras swung around as she turned to dispatch the offending creature, and then she was rocketing to safety, landing a ways in front of the other two.

With all the extra cameras, Jesse had almost a complete 360 degree view around the team, taking the role of watching their backs so that Max didn't have to.

The hacker had gone mostly silent, except for a protest at one point that Jesse assumed was pointed at Genji about 'saving his brother's life'.

The group had managed to make it out of the residential area, thanks to Lúcio's occasional speed boosting. Jesse guided them out into the hills where he hoped the group could have terrain advantage.

It worked for a while, but three people were never meant to hold off hundreds. Jesse's heart raced as the vampires got closer and closer. Lúcio was slowing down, Hanzo was running out of arrows and Ms. Song had already had a few close calls.

Ms. Song released her summon, engulfing her rig in a huge white spectral rabbit that blinded most of the cameras and seemed to burn any vampire it came in contact with.

The summon could only last so long though, and as it faded away, more vampires took the place of those that had been obliterated just moments prior.

 _“How’s that pick up coming? Soon would have been good, like, yesterday!”_ She called, voice pitching up in fear.

“It'll be there, just a bit longer.”

_“We don't really have 'longer’.”_

“I know, I know. I don't like this either but we won't let y'all die. Just hold tight. Shimada, on yer four.”

Hanzo whirled, and let the arrow fly, still managing a headshot and earning a whistle of appreciation. There was a big difference between seeing the scores in the simulations and the real thing.

Still, no matter how good, marksmen were up shit creek without any ammunition and Hanzo was running dangerously low. He'd started picking out only the most dangerous targets with his last seven arrows. Jesse counted them down even as Ms. Song continued to mow down any that got too close.

Seven. A Leaper that had gone for Lúcio. It crumpled to a heap of limps with its long spindly front arms stretched out for the DJ. Six. Another Leaper, this one on Ms. Song's rig. His breath hitched as Hanzo sliced open a young vampire's throat that had lunged for him.

Five, four and three went into the same vampire. Jesse hadn't ever seen one like that before. It was big and burly, which could have been attributed to the human it had been once being built like a brick shithouse but it looked like it had been made to tank. The first arrow had hardly even fazed it. The second, through the eye, had given it pause long enough that Hanzo had sent the third through its gaping mouth.

The archer had taken to hand-to-hand more, catching another young vampire by the arm as it lunged for him and swinging it to the ground before stabbing it in the chest a handful of times.

They couldn't keep this up. Jesse knew they couldn't but Max always pulled through. Always. He had to. His teeth gritted as Hanzo did that damn ninja trick to kick a vampire away from Lucio.

Two. This time for something small and fast that could have reached Ms. Song in her rig. _'C'mon, Max. Any day now.’_

The archer had pulled his last arrow, arm shimmering as he focused it at no vampire in particular. Jesse didn't know what he was doing but he sure hoped it worked.

_“Una vita per una vita. Put that away.”_

The archer startled, but judging by the lack of reaction from the other two, they hadn't heard. Then, the steady _ch-ch-ch_ of helicopters proceeded an all-too familiar guitar riff blaring from the lead chopper.

_‘Welcome to the jungle we've got fun and games…’_

_Brrr-tn-tn-tn-tn._ Plumes of dirt exploded up as the helicopters passed over in formation, peppering the ground with a salvo of death.

“Looks like the cavalry's here!” Jesse cheered, only somewhat poking fun at their resident pilot.

_“Wrong pilot, cowboy.”_

Jesse sputtered in shock, “Fio?!”

_“Who else would come bailing you troublemakers out? Besides, someone ran off and still owes me money.”_

“Right… about that. I ain't on the ground, darlin’.”

_“Suspended again? Or no, let me guess. You're laid up in sick bay because you played chicken with a manticore and lost.”_

“One time, Fio. That was _one_ time.”

 _“Anyone possessed of even basic intelligence might suggest that once is once too many,”_ Hanzo snorted.

The laughter erupted from everyone at once. Everyone except Jesse, who was busy glaring at any screen that had that archer's smug grin plastered across it.

_"È proprio il tipo che mi piace."_

_“Oooh, I like this one. Let's keep him.”_

The glare shifted from the screens to the comm on his desk. Sometimes he could handle playing the fool. Sometimes he could handle the ‘stupid’ comments that had run their course and stopped being funny decades ago, but that archer pushed his buttons something fierce and today was not one of those times. “Go ahead 'n laugh it up,” he growled, “Yer brother's alive ‘cause of my ‘less than basic intelligence’. Now if y'all will excuse me, I've got an ass-chewing t’ go attend to. See y'all back on base.”

He pushed himself up, leaving the comm on the desk where it was with the call still open. Angry as he was, he wouldn't screw over Lucio by cutting the call, since he assumed all of it was going through his comm at the moment.

Behind him, he heard Fio sigh, _“Moody as usual…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to release two more chapters, one for Christmas Eve and one for Christmas Day.
> 
> Even if you don't celebrate, Happy Holidays y'all and thanks for following this story and giving me y'all's love and support<3


	27. Chapter 27

“So where are we going?” Hana leaned into the cockpit area.

They were currently flying back to… somewhere. Possibly Grand Mesa. Max had mentioned that. Hanzo leaned back in his seat, gripping Stormbow tightly as it rested across his lap.

“To get backup. Still need to get rid of that nest.” Fio grinned back.

“Backup?” Hanzo repeated, brows furrowing. They were going to go  _ back _ ?

“Sure. I mean, I'm not supposed to exist, so I can't exactly take you guys back, but if we clear the nest, you guys can just call in your pilot.”

“And who exactly is going to help us against  _ that? _ ”

“Oh ye of little faith, this is my daily driver. We're going home and getting my  _ baby _ . Well.  _ One _ of my babies. Oh, and the boys. I guess they're important too.”

_ “Oddio, please do  _ not _ get her on that boat. We’ze’ll be talkin’ bout it all night ‘n halfa tomorrow. I shoulda’ never bought it for ‘er.” _

“That  _ boat  _ has saved your ass, Max.” Fio shot back, “Do I need to bring up Germany? Or Spain? Or Russia?  _ Especially  _ Russia.”

_ “Let’s not talk about Russia.” _

Fio grinned smugly and turned back to the instruments in the cockpit.

Hanzo liked her already, if only for the fact that she had the apparently magical ability to shut Max up.

They landed sometime later in a wide open area with nothing nearby except a large house with several outbuildings. Barely visible on the edge of the property was a much smaller structure but Hanzo couldn't quite make it out. It almost looked like a tent. Hanzo frowned as something old and angry pressed back at him. There was something here that didn't like him. They taxied into one of the outbuildings, which turned out to be a hangar, and parked next to a much newer and more impressively armed gunship.

“C'mon. You guys can go get some sleep and I can convince Price and Irving to get off the couch.”

Only two? Hanzo raised an eyebrow at her. Gunship or not, two extra people wouldn't be enough.

“What's with the look?”

“We are going to go face an entire town and eradicate a nest with five people and…”

“Seven and a gunship!”

“The gunship can not help us when we get in town, or inside buildings.” Hanzo frowned. “As someone who is not supposed to exist, you should know this.”

“You're real fun at parties, aren't you?” Fio shot back and suddenly, Hanzo found himself withdrawing the previous sentiment of liking her.

“Plenty. Thank you.”

She laughed, and then gestured for them to follow her out of the hangar. “Wait 'til you meet the boys before you pass judgement, hot shot. Give them some credit, Irving's one of the few Blackwatch tanks that survived. Of course, kinda glad, Turing was a bastard and deserved everything he got.”

Hanzo wasn't sure who Turing was, but the tone in her voice told him that he was glad that he wasn't finding out.

As they exited the hangar, a few drops of rain began to fall. The angry presence seemed more upset than before, pushing against him challengingly. Hanzo pursed his lips, shoving back against the magic. He was already uncomfortable in this form, and this presence was only making it worse. However, pushing back seemed to strike a nerve as thunder suddenly cracked across the sky and rain began to pelt them.

“Ugh, now what?” Fio grumbled as she ran inside, shielding herself from the rain.

Hanzo lingered for a moment, looking up at the sky before Lúcio grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

Once inside, it became obvious that the owner was either not as wealthy as all of the buildings and house might have suggested, or they were very eccentric. The furniture, while matching for the most part, would have looked like it had been picked up at a multitude of thrift stores if not for the nearly unused condition it was all in. The walls were decorated with long Navajo blankets hung from knotted wooden rods that had been sanded and polyurethaned before hung up like curtains. The house wasn’t an old construction, no more than 30 years old at most, but there were vases and other Native American craftsmen pieces displayed all over the house. The owner clearly appreciated the work, but, along with how unlived in it looked, the place seemed more like a museum than a home.

Well, until he walked into the room where the old Blackwatch members were staying.

The basement of the Moroccan-Spanish stucco home was complete with a kitchenette, a large bathroom, and multiple bedrooms. Where the upstairs of the home was immaculate, the downstairs was a disaster. The kitchenette was filled with dirty dishes and frozen pizza boxes while beer cans laid here there and yon on the tables surrounding an entertainment center. There was even a foosball table down here. When was the last time anyone played that?

“Boys! I’m back! You better be decent, we have company!”

“Hey mama! Thought you were bangin’ the landlord! What happened?” An almost tenor voice called from the other room.

Fio groaned and shook her head before casting a weary look at the rest of them. “I’m sorry, they never graduated past ‘14-year-old boy’.”

A scandalized gasp erupted from the couch with feet hanging over the side, “I am  _ at least _ a 17-year old girl.” The words rumbled and then were followed by a laugh, “I take offense to your judgment, Fio.”

“Come on you two, enough. We have problems.”

“Of course we do,” the tenor voice called. “We’re out of pizza!”

“You are hopeless. There’s a huge nest of vampires down in Mexico. Up and attem boys, we ship out tomorrow. Get to know the team.”

“Since when do we hunt?” A lanky man popped his head out of a side room, quirking a brow, “I’m retired!”

“Not anymore, Price. Clean that mess you call a gun up and be ready to move in the morning.”

The man named Price groaned and then slowly shuffled off to another room, “Alright, mama, I’m going.”

Hanzo’s back straightened as the presence got closer, tightening around him and suffocating him. His lip curled as he once again pushed back out against it and was rewarded with a wave of anger. The front door shut upstairs with a harsh  _ Bang! _ Hanzo tensed as it got closer.

“Ooh,” the man sprawled on the couch called, “Landlord’s home.”

“Great! Think he’s got pizza?”

“No.” Fio retorted flatly.

All of their voices seemed so far away as Hanzo prepared himself to fight the angry being that was currently coming downstairs. He had instinctively moved away from the door, watching it as it opened.

“Where is it?”

“Beer’s in the fridge like always. Pizza’s gone.” Price called from the other room where, judging by the sounds, he was taking apart some kind of gun.

“Not the  _ beer.” _ A tall man with long hair strode in, all fringe and feathers and _ rage, _ looking like he’d walked right out of the  _ 1970s _ with bracelets up and down his arms. His eyes searched the room, pausing on each face for which one might be  _ it. _ He gripped his hands tightly to his sides and then stalked forward. “The  _ Dragon. _ Where is  _ it?” _

Hanzo froze, eyes narrowing at the man. How did he know? What was he? He pressed out, searching with his own magic for clues as to what the man could be when those rage-filled eyes turned on him almost instantly and stayed there. He lifted his chin defiantly, staring back at him with jaw set. Let him attack.

Hanzo had faith Hana and Lucio would back him up.

“Dragon? You been smokin’ the good shit again? I told you to share!” Price called, “Ain’t no dragon here."

He snarled and unzipped his jacket, throwing it onto the couch and pulled a small silver tin from his back pocket. When he opened it, a joint was removed before the tin was closed again and tossed so firmly through the open door that his yelp could be heard all the way in here. “It’s here. I know it is. If it steps out of line, I’mma put it  _ down.” _ He snapped his fingers, producing a sparkle just above the knuckles and used it to light the joint. “I’m not high enough for this shit.”

“Don’t have to throw things! Jesus Christ, you  _ aren’t _ high enough. Please do us a favor and  _ fix it. _ Go smoke the entire greenhouse and come back later.”

“Fuck you too.” He stomped over to the mini fridge that sat beside the gargantuan sprawled form of Irving and opened it to retrieve a Boulevard Craft. It required a bottle opener; he popped it with his teeth before flopping onto the couch to chug it down. When it was empty, he re-opened the fridge to retrieve another, even though Hanzo could have sworn it had only had one the last time. It was again opened with his teeth.

“That’ll ruin your teeth.” Hana called flatly.

“My teeth are the least of my worries.” He answered with a shrug. The ‘landlord’ reached out and solidly kicked Irving which resulted with the remote being tossed his way with more force than  _ strictly _ necessary. At his head. He was a good catch because it didn’t make it that far.

“Good news,” Fio chirped as she flopped directly onto the landlord’s lap, “You’ll be free of the kids for at least a day. We’re going vampire hunting in Mexico.”

He huffed a little when she just  _ sat _ on him, getting adjusted before wrapping an arm around her waist and taking another swig, but then a slow grin spread across his face. “Vampires?” With his smile that wide, everyone could see the sharp teeth he’d opened those bottles with. “How many?”

“Whole town turned into a nest, it’s really fucky if you ask me.” Fio shook her head, “The  _ cowboy _ called Max in and Max called me.”

“Jesse called you? For  _ them?” _ His eyes flicked over to Hanzo specifically as he gently rubbed his thumb over her side. For all his bluster, he seemed gentle enough with her; the oppressive anger and  _ ‘how  _ dare _ you’ _ began to subside from the air.

“Yeah, apparently the monkey got the gang back together.” Fio shrugged, “And doesn’t know how to research an op properly. Then again, given how often I had to bail A Team out with Max backing them up...” She trailed off with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. “Sometimes there’s just nothing you can do for troublemakers.”

“Hey!” Hana bristled. “It was  _ not  _ our fault!”

“Ughh--” He let his head fall back against the back of the couch, palming his face before pulling back up. “How bad of a bailout are we talking here, baby? I’m  _ retired.” _

“Nothing me, Spooky, the kiddos and those three can’t handle.” She patted Irving’s leg, “Right?”

“Sure.” The man rumbled back. “It’s just a town full of vampires, what could go wrong?”

“I don’t understand why bossman can’t just Plan B it. You know just sneeze a little on it.”

“Because that won’t have Petras breathing down our throats for the rest of the  _ decade.” _ Irving snorted. “But I agree with him. Worth.”

“I’m not high enough for this.” The landlord groaned, hiding in her shoulder. He looked every inch a sad puppy.

“You’re never high enough for this,” Price crowed. “We could still bring the big guns.”

Fio gasped, “Spooky is more than big enough,  _ thank you _ .”

“She doesn’t do it for you like  _ he _ does.” Irving, for once, was in on this joke.

“You’re right. Spooky does it  _ special _ .”

“Mmm,  _ Spooky.”  _ The landlord grinned mischievously, even going so far as to add some sound effects.

Hanzo curled his lip. For black ops specialists, they were remarkably crude. Suddenly, his brother’s…  _ everything  _ made so much more sense. These five were like  _ children _ !

“As great as this conversation is,” Hana groaned, “Can we please just figure out what the hell we are doing about the town crawling with vampires? You know, before it becomes like--  _ ten _ towns crawling with vampires?”

“I’m  _ not _ going.” The landlord announced, sitting back again so he could snag his drink off the side table and return to it. “I’m not having another Oklahoma.”

“But Oklahoma was  _ great _ . Paperwork and massive cover-ups… We were just missing the black Ray-Bans and neuralizers.” Price laughed as he finally came out of the other room with a large assault rifle that looked as though it would knock him over with the first shot.

“There was nothing great about a hurricane in January over the  _ midwest. _ My  _ dad _ had to come bail us out.”

“That was the best part.” Price laughed. “Big man never comes around.”

“You have no sense of self preservation.”

“I was in  _ Blackwatch _ and you’re just now noticing that?”

He raised his hand to rub his forehead again, giving Hanzo just enough time to read ‘FREE BIRD’ on the chunkiest bracelet.  “I’ll order something then. What do you want? Can’t go out there on microwave pizza.”

“Think Max would make us something on such short notice? I miss the home cooking.”

“He can’t.” Fio rolled her eyes, “He’s in Nepal… for some weird reason.”

“Apparently... “ Hana snorted, “Genji convinced him to get his shit together.”

The group turned and looked at each other and was quiet for a minute before bursting into raucous laughter, “Have you  _ met  _ Genji?”

“Uh yeah, he’s kinda me and Lucio’s friend.” She gestured at the siren who had, at some point, moved to one of the empty chairs and fallen asleep. “Of course we know him. Max is in Nepal with Genji because Genji’s teacher is there.”

“Oh right--” The landlord snorted through his nose. “I think I kind of remember hearing something about that through the grapevine. Apparently his teacher puts the ‘fist’ back in  _ ‘pacifist’.” _

“So…what? Genji’s some sort of monk now?” Price raised a eyebrow, “Cause I just… can’t picture it. I thought McCree had anger issues until I met Genji.”

Hanzo shifted uncomfortably at the mention. It wasn’t like he didn’t  _ know _ but acknowledging it still hurt.

“Apparently.” The man lit another joint and took a deep puff before resting his cheek on Fio’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“He is hardly a monk.” Hanzo finally snorted. “Only his temper is better.”

“I’ll say it again.  _ ‘Fist.’” _

“Kinky.” Price cooed as he flopped down in a chair. “Hey Irving, toss me a beer. The fridge hates me.”

Irving reached into the mini fridge, the same one that this time Hanzo was  _ certain _ had been empty, and retrieved a Budweiser that he handed over to Price easily. “Hey, you. What’d you say your name was?"

“I didn’t.”

“His name is Katsuya.” The landlord looked Hanzo in the eye with a pointed stare.

Hanzo gave him a look back that, to anyone else, would look like he just didn’t want to be introduced. In reality, he wanted to know why this being that had been so upset with his presence earlier, would try to cover for him. He wouldn’t complain, but it was strange.

“Well, Katsuya--” Irving slapped his thighs as he got up and wandered over to the large fridge to grab a take out menu. “In your honor, and in honor of boss man shelling out the big bucks, let’s get sushi.”

“I knew I would regret offering to buy food.”

\---

Morning came too soon in the form of a screaming child. Hanzo sat up suddenly, hand going for a bow that wasn’t as nearby as he’d have liked.   
  
“What the--” Hana groaned nearby. “Is that a  _ baby?" _

“Big man must be back. Fioooo, I thought you said it be another week!” Price called.

“It was  _ supposed  _ to be…” Shuffling footsteps joined a pair that were already darting up the stairs. The basement door opened and then closed twice, followed by voices. The child seemed to quiet and then there were happy squeals. Hanzo groaned and shoved himself out of the chair he'd fallen asleep in to go check that mini fridge that never seemed to be empty. He squinted at the water in the fridge and then shrugged and removed it to drink it.

Upstairs, the voices had raised excitedly, and it sounded like Fio was cooing at the child. No wonder she acted like the group mom. She was one.

“Well, we better get moving.” Irving groaned as he shoved himself up and grabbed a pair of gloves that sat on a table off to the side and pulled them on, flexing his fingers. They looked to be some kind of power gloves, given the metal plating and gauntlet-like additions. Hanzo wasn’t sure  _ how _ Irving was the one of the few tanks that survived, if he was a close-range melee fighter but if he was alive after all this time, Hanzo wasn’t going to doubt him too much.

The only problem that remained was the subject of Hanzo’s arrows. He had used all of his last night, and had no way to replace them. He  _ could  _ transform, or he  _ could _ fight hand-to-hand with the assistance of magic but neither particularly appealed to him. As they trudged up the stairs, Hanzo couldn’t help but feel like this was still a huge mistake.

Price didn’t appear to be carrying any ammunition except a pouch of something heavy, probably grenades if the attachment below was any indication, something Hana also noticed.

“What  _ is  _ that gun anyway?”

Price looked down at the rifle, “Her  _ technical _ name is EPHAR-43, but let’s be real… She’s a photon rifle. She’s an experimental build that never quite made it to the boys in blue…” He snorted, “Something, something… burns, something, something unstable with long-term use. Boys in blue just didn’t know how to handle a dainty lady.”

Irving snorted, but said nothing.

When they got upstairs, Fio and ‘the landlord’ were sitting on the couch with a small child sitting between them. A man knelt in front of the toddler with a long, dark braid down his back as he offered a small wooden toy to the child. The relation to the landlord was obvious, cheekbones like that didn’t just  _ happen. _

“Thanks for bringing him back, Dad.” Even if Fio had hoped for another week to herself without their toddler around, he seemed happy enough to have his son back.

“It was my pleasure to reunite him with his parents,” The man who was kneeling stood up… and up and up and up. He had to be at  _ least _ 7 feet tall. “He missed you.”

For the first time, Hanzo realized the lack of magic that  _ should  _ have been hanging in the air if the giant of a man was indeed related to the ‘landlord’. Then, he realized the lack of magic, period. There was nothing. No oppressing aura, no calmer presence. No siren magic. No summoner magic from Hana. Absolutely  _ nothing _ . It didn’t sit right with him at all, and he found himself tensing and keeping his eyes on the child’s grandfather. He’d known older dragons to be able to fully hide their own presence, which tended to make them hard to find and even harder to kill. Hanzo himself could mask his presence down to appearing to be a human mage of some flavor, but it took concentration and tended to leave him irritable. He had  _ never  _ known anyone who could dampen  _ everyone’s  _ magical presence by simply  _ existing. _

As tall as he was, even from the ground, Hanzo could see a low glow of gold in his eyes. It almost seemed like he was looking right through them. He reached out a closed hand to Hanzo, watching him with a patiently calm smile.

Hanzo looked down at the hand and then back up with furrowed eyebrows. What did this man want with him? Finally, he held out his hand, eyeing the man warily.

When he laid his hand over Hanzo's, it dwarfed his almost like an adult handing something to a child. Whatever he had been holding fell into his palm and the man smiled ever so slightly. “She lost both sons that day.”

Hanzo glared at the man, lip curling for a moment and then he bit his tongue. Whoever this man was, he was more powerful than  _ anything  _ Hanzo had ever encountered and attacking him in his son’s home surrounded by his allies was definitely suicide.

“Hoohoo! Big Man got you too, huh? Don’t worry, he does that. Irving punched him in the face.”

“Tried. I  _ tried  _ to punch him in the face. He laughed at me.”

Hanzo looked back with a puzzled expression, as if the fact that Irving getting away with punching the man in the face, and then finally looked down at the object in his hand. His eyes flicked back up, “Where did you get this?”

“The same place you left it.” He was intentionally being vague. “You need it more than she does.”

The words just earned the man a scowl. “How dare you.” Hanzo turned away, stowing his mother’s amulet away in one of the pouches at his side. The last time he’d seen this amulet, he was placing it around the neck of his mother’s burial urn before it was placed in the family grave. The fact that this man not only had it, but had retrieved it from a  _ grave _ was unsettling and Hanzo couldn’t help the disgust and anger.

“I get that a lot.”

“Dad,” The landlord sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “Leave this poor man alone.” He smiled crookedly at Hanzo, “He spits out the most unsettling shit ever and drops trinkets from your past. Pulls them out of thin air. Some people collect stamps. I  _ really _ wish he'd collect stamps.”

“Don't tell  _ all _ my secrets.”

_ 'Pulls them out of thin air.’ _ That made Hanzo feel only  _ slightly  _ better. At least now he knew that this man wasn't a graverobber… at least, not in the traditional sense.

“Me next!” Hana chirped.

Hanzo side-eyed her, equal parts confused and concerned. His eyes shifted back to the taller man with a warning glare. He wasn't sure what he'd do, but the man had better  _ hope _ he didn't hurt Hana.

“Don’t eat so many doritos, they’re bad for you.” He chuckled, patting her on the head like a small child.

“Oh come on! Be serious!” Hana huffed.

Hanzo hoped the man didn't listen. While he was perfectly aware that Hana was a soldier, and had likely seen things that kept her up at night just like so many others on base, Hanzo didn't trust this man and what he could or would say.

He looked her over and then hummed, producing a small slip of paper between two fingers and presented it to her. “You need them to need you.”

Hanzo watched as Hana stared at the scrap of paper, then up at the man's face. Her face contorted slightly, equal parts indignation and hurt. Then, without taking the slip she turned and headed for the door, “Come on guys. We have vampires to kill.”

Hanzo shot a dirty look at the man before following her out.

“What did he give you?” Hana asked, almost as soon as they were outside and alone.

He was quiet for a moment, deciding whether or not to tell her before finally, digging in the pouch for the amulet. “My mother's necklace. It  _ used  _ to hang around her urn.”

Her face twisted in disgust, “That's messed up. Like, kinda gross, messed up.”

Hanzo gave a slight nod and then tucked the necklace away again, “And you?”

“My ticket stub to Gibraltar. I… I'm technically suspended from MEKA until further notice for attacking the Gwishin alone and destroying a rig. If you ask the public I'm on a much-deserved vacation.” She spat the words venomously. “I came to Overwatch to do some good.”

Hanzo shook his head. It certainly explained how and why she got there, and why the Korean military wasn't breathing down their necks.

“And the rig?”

“A friend and I were building an extra. That's why Tokki isn't pink. Technically, they don't know I have it.”

Hanzo made an amused face and then chuckled, “You named…”

“Everyone in MEKA named their rig! Don't judge me!”

“I was not judging you.”

“Oh.” She shuffled quietly. “Some people think it's childish.”

“I have named every weapon I have ever used. So has Genji. Stormbow is much like a close friend, only better.”

Hana snorted, “Yeah, can't let you down like people can, right?”

Hanzo blinked as she practically read his mind, smiled a little and chuckled. “Correct.”

The moment was interrupted by the sounds of the others coming outside and Hanzo turned to walk toward the gunship, now identified as 'Spooky’.

“Hey!” Hana jogged after him after a moment, “Weren't you out of arrows?”

Hanzo paused, and looked back over his shoulder at his quiver which was now full, even though it hadn't been earlier that morning. He pulled one of the arrows out to inspect it.

“That's weird.” Hana commented and he could only nod in agreement.

Rather than his typical carbon fiber design, these were made of a light wood, possibly hawthorn, given the almost golden-brown color. The fletching was still blue and still feathers but they were barred, rather than plain. The arrowheads were metal, but simple. In fact, if it weren't for the intricate designs that seemed to be scorched into the wood and the obvious magic that radiated from the arrow, the entire thing seemed like something someone could make themselves. He stared down the shaft and, suitably impressed by its straightness, replaced the arrow into his quiver.

“Where did they come from?”

“I am not sure I want to know.” He wasn't going to question it. Especially not after everything that had happened this morning already. “They appear well-made and will serve their purpose.”

Lúcio seemed more cheerful than normal as he skated backwards towards them, chatting with Price and Irving. As the siren flipped back around, a shell necklace hung around his neck. It seemed that Lúcio had received something from the landlord's father too, but was pleased about it.

“Everyone load up!” Fio called, opening the hatch and gesturing inside.

Hana was already running toward the transport so  she could begin loading Tokki into the gunship while the others got on board.

Hana chose to sit beside him when she was done, with Lúcio on her other side. Price and Irving sat across from them.

“Man, I don't miss loading up in these things,” Price noted as he strapped in. “Always meant bad shit.” He dropped his voice to a subtle growl as he scowled mockingly, “B team, A team and I are busy with the Paris job. You're shipping out at oh dark-thirty for Siberia.”

“Oh come on, it wasn't Siberia…” Irving snorted, “That was the Wisconsin job, remember?”

“Right. Fuckin’ hodags. I don't know know what I hate worse, them or wyrms.”

“Wyrms.” Hanzo frowned. Not only did people compare them to dragons, which _they_ _were not_ , but wyrms tended to possess a host of nasty abilities.

“Have you ever met a pack of hodags?”

“I have not, but I have almost been eaten by a sandswimmer and it is not an experience I wish to repeat.”

“Okay yeah no. Fuck sandswimmers.” Price shuddered. “I saw a guy get melted by one. We shot it when it surfaced to eat him. Ugly sons of bitches.”

“Jaculi are worse.” Irving pointed out. “Nothing like being attacked by a pack of scaly bullets with teeth.”

“Why does shit like this exist again?”

“To get you boys off the couch.” Fio teased.

“I wish they wouldn't.” Price groaned.

\---

The flight seemed shorter this time and they landed outside Sabinas again soon. Hanzo didn't particularly want to be back here again, and he still felt that they didn't have enough people. Especially to hunt them within their nest. He wasn't even sure if Hana would be able to get Tokki down into the nest but waiting for them to wake up was just as bad.

Vampires were easy to kill when they slept for the day, and the process went smoothly for the first several hours as he methodically ‘staked’ each with a silver blade to the heart. However, as they reached the warehouse that they had set up above the first time, Hanzo grew uneasy. Perhaps it was just the thought of dozens of vampires pouring from underground, but after seeing those small ones yesterday, he couldn't help but feel like something was very wrong here.

As they opened the door and Price shine a light down the stairs, that feeling only grew.

“Rock, paper, scissors who goes first.” Price sounded uneasy too.

Hanzo shook his head, “I'll go.”

“Are you sure?” Irving turned to look at him, “They could be awake down there.”

“I likely have the fastest reflexes out of all of us. All the more reason to go first.”

The two former Blackwatch members still seemed concerned, but didn't fight him further. The group filed down the stairs with Hanzo in front and Price at the back. Hana stayed upstairs to keep watch.

The basement was not at all what Hanzo had expected. For starters, it was empty. Well, mostly.

“Why's it always gotta be Talon?” Price shook his head as he shined a light around the dark room, stopping on the corpse of a soldier with a sharp, stylized 'T’ on the shoulder.

“Because it's  _ always _ Talon.” Irving reminded.

Hanzo furrowed his brow as he swept through the rooms. In this one, trashed computers. In another, vials of blood left forgotten.

“Hey, this guy wasn't attacked by vampires!” Price called.

Hanzo headed back into the main room as Price gestured at the man's bloody mouth.

“That's a glass pill if I've  _ ever _ seen one.”

Cyanide. Hanzo frowned and looked back at the other rooms, “The computers here are completely reformatted. They're asking for an OS install.”

“Give it to Max.” Irving snorted. “He'll have fun with it.”

“How?”

“I don't know, connect your comm to it or something.”

“We can worry about that later, we need to clear out the rest of the vampires before they wake up.

“Right. So, if they're not down here… where are they?” Lúcio chimed in, staring at the dead Talon soldier.

“We'll have to search all the buildings.”

“Aw man…” Lúcio grimaced.

“Hey guys? We have company!” Hana called down the stairs.

Hanzo frowned and then lunged for the stairs, taking them two at a time. “What's wrong? Is it Talon?”

“No…” Hana was staring up, “Pretty sure that's ours. Did one of you call for backup?”

“No…” Hanzo's brow furrowed as the Overwatch carrier landed and powered down.

The cowboy was the first one out, and he looked equal parts upset and relieved. “What're ya'll doin’ back here?”

“I don't believe we are supposed to discuss that with you,” Hana retorted.

McCree sighed as Tracer zipped out behind him, “Winston waived my probation temporarily to help y'all. Besides… I kinda know most of that happened anyway.”

“Is that McCree?!” Price yelled as the rest came up the stairs.

“Price? That you?” The cowboy suddenly seemed less interested in them and was leaning around to look at the rifleman behind them with a raised eyebrow, “I thought you went back to Louisiana?”

“Aw man, it  _ is  _ you.” Price groaned, “I did, and then Fio calls me and tells me to get my ass outside cause a certain Yankee hacker needs a bailout. Speaking of, where were  _ you? _ ”

“Missin’ an arm.” The cowboy sighed as he held up his left arm.

“The fuck'd you do?”

“Long story.”

“He did what he's good at!” Lena crowed, “He buggered off and found himself trouble!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved her off, “Big ole troublemaker, I know.”

“So why are  _ you _ here?” Hana pressed.

The slightest frown pulled around the ever-present cigar in the cowboy's mouth but he didn't make any other noticeable sign of discomfort. In fact, with the way the cigar shifted, it was almost impossible to see. “Last I knew, y'all were restin’ up and then comin’ back t’ the Watchpoint, 'n then I see y'all back here.”

Concern. The cowboy had worried about them, or rather, had worried about Lúcio at least. Hanzo's brow furrowed as he watched the uneasy set of the cowboy's shoulders. For anyone not looking too closely, the man seemed relaxed. His weight was all on his right leg, one hand tucked into his belt loop and the other now holding his cigar, rolling it in his fingers.

“Well,” Irving broke the silence, “Now we have more people.”

That was true. They had just gained another sharpshooter, as well as the only person on base that could beat his times in the simulators. He hadn't gotten to see either of them in action. Only the scores. “It is getting late.” Hanzo agreed. They would likely be thankful for the extra guns.

“Guess we oughta get movin’ then.” The cowboy sighed, “Which buildings y'all got clear?”

“Everything that way.” Irving pointed in the direction they had come from then in the opposite direction. “We're working that way.”

“Right.” The cowboy turned and started heading for a building out of their path. “I'll start over here then.”

Why was he separating? Hanzo frowned after McCree as he disappeared into a building.

“Has he  _ always _ been like this?” Hana groaned. “You guys worked with him right?”

“Yeah, and he's usually more...witty and shit.” Price leaned to stare at the house McCree had entered. “He's always been a fuckin' joker…”

More proof that McCree's behavior was odd. Perhaps not suspicious, but definitely odd.

“C'mon you know he gets weird about missions. Probably just made himself crazy like he usually does.” Irving clapped Price on the shoulder as he passed. “We should get moving and clear these buildings.”

\---

By the time night fell, Hanzo had stopped bothering to wonder about the cowboy. It wasn't like it really mattered. Hanzo had more important things to do than worry about a foolish cowboy with no sense of self-preservation. He spun as a groggy vampire sluggishly emerged from one of the buildings. A haunting screeching rose from the other nearby buildings and Hanzo steeled himself. So it began.

The sound of McCree's gun shattered the mourning of the vampires. First one shot, then two and then the remaining four in quick succession.

“Should we-- shouldn't we go help?” Lúcio looked to the rest of them as Lena zipped away in a blur of blue light.

“McCree'll be fine, 'specially with Lena going after him.” Price grunted as he lifted his rifle, “There's a reason Reyes had him leading B Team for a while before he got promoted. Guy knows his shit.”

_ “I'm in the air but I need you guys out of town so I can cover you guys.” _

“You heard her! Let's get moving!”

They ran for the outskirts of the town, aided by Lúcio's speed boosting.

_ “Little more guys and then I can come in for a strafing run!” _

“Doing our best, mama! We can't all just fly somewhere at several hundred miles an hour!”

Fio laughed, _ “Jess and Lena are coming up on your six, watch your fire.” _

“Will do.”

When they were out far enough, Fio switched to teasing McCree about the money he still owed her.

_ “Well then park that bird and come down and get it!” _

_ “Wait, seriously?” _

_ “I mean, I've got my chips on me.” _

_ “I was joking, cowboy!” _

_ “Do I owe ya money or not, darlin’?” _

_ “Well I mean, you do. Poker game remember?” _

_ “Yeah, I remember.” _

_ “But I'm kinda willing to call it even. I think you need the money more than I do anyway.” _

_ “Nuh uh, you are not gonna pull that on me. I'm payin’ ya.” _

Hanzo wondered if they even remembered that they were about to fight their way through a town full of angry vampires. The sound of McCree's gun suggested that the cowboy might.

Lena reached them first, looking them all over and then zipping back out toward McCree, pistols blazing. The town had come alive while they ran and McCree was only barely keeping ahead with well-placed shots behind him.

Hanzo nocked a trio of arrows as the pair got closer, letting two fly. One clipped within centimeters of the cowboy, and the man sidestepped it a little without so much as a complaint. The other cleared past McCree with meters to spare.

Price opened fire almost as soon as McCree cleared Irving, who slammed his power gloves together and generated a large shield.

Hanzo raised his eyebrows approvingly as he fired off his third arrow.

_ “Alright kiddos! All hands and feet behind the shield! Coming in for a pass!” _

Hanzo paused for a moment, looking up to where he could hear the roar of the gunship's engines.

“You got it, mama!”

The sound of the engines grew louder and higher, joined by the staccato  _ Krr-t-t-t-t brrrrrrt  _ of its guns. Dust sprayed up from the ground in sharp plumes, leaving nothing but the mourning screams of the rest of the nest in its wake.

_ “Coming around for another pass!” _

_ “They've stopped t’ kiss ‘n cry, youse’ll have t’ pass tighter.”  _ Max's voice interrupted.

_ “Nice of you to join us!”  _ Fio chuckled as the gunship passed over again, raining death from above.

_ “Yeah. I just found out, fer the last four fuckin’ hours, that meditation ain’t optional.” _

“Meditation?” Price jeered, “Since when the fuck do you meditate?”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow as he turned a haughty look on Price, hearing the hesitation as Max tried to find words, “Is there something wrong with meditation?”

Price opened his mouth, seemed to think better of what he was about to say and returned to firing on the vampires that had lunged forward again.

_ “‘Sides,” _ Max almost sounded bashful,  _ “I kinda like meditation. It’s a good excuse t’ sit there ‘n hold Genji’s hand ‘n take a nap.” _

Hanzo's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to interject, but Fio's laughter cut him off.

_ “Jesus Max, it took you going to Nepal to learn how to take a break?” _

_ “I didn’t  _ mean  _ ‘t take a nap!” _ Max’s voice had turned flustered.  _ “It was warm ‘n quiet ‘n I was comfortable. Masta’ Zenyatta said sometimes we need t’ work on the body before we can work on th’ soul ‘n apparently  _ my _ body needed a nap, ok?” _

_ “No judgement! I have a two-year-old. Naptime is great.” _

“Typically, meditation is not used for naps.” Hanzo noted with a shrug and the very slightest of smiles. There was some truth to the words of Genji's master, even if Hanzo didn't particularly want to admit it.

Irving winced in preparation for the screeching he could already tell was coming. Max’d never been good with comments like those, even in a good will. He’d seen plenty of new kids reduced to tears in the middle of a mission for pointing out a ‘helpful’ but obvious fact.

_ “Yeah, I figured, but it was kinda amazin’. I don’t think I’ve had four hours t’ myself since… well, let’s just say ‘s been a hot sec.” _

“It was merely a statement, not a judgement.”

_ “That makes youse the  _ only _ one in this group a’ hooligans that ain’t judgin’.” _

_ “I already said I wasn't judging!” _ Fio protested.

_ “I know you, don’t lie to me.” _

_ “Okay fine. I'll judge you for holding Genji's hand during naptime. Happy?” _

_ “I-- what?”  _ Max sighed,  _ “Fine, I’ll take that. I guess it’s fair.” _

_ “Seriously though, I wasn't judging. Glad you found something good for you.”  _ There was a mumble that sounded suspiciously like ‘it's about time’ but it was drowned out by the sound of her making another strafing run farther out.

_ “Thanks Mom.” _

Fio laughed over the comm but Hanzo found himself paying attention to the jeering laughter coming from Price and McCree.

“C'mon Price, yer gettin’ rusty! I've got like 15 on ya!”

“Bullshit!”

_ “Hanzo’s got at least 20 on both of ya’ slackers.” _

“Hanzo?” Irving turned to look back at him, “Didn't Ena say your name was Katsuya?”

_ “Uh, my bad. I’m terrible wit’ names.” _

Irving opened his mouth, furrowed his brow and something in his expression told Hanzo that not only was that a lie, but a terrible one at that.

“I'm pretty sure you still remember the name of that guy who was in Blackwatch for two days and nearly pissed himself on a vampire sim. They weren't even Leapers.” Price retorted. “I'm surprised that he survived talking to Reyes.”

“To be fair,” McCree chuckled, “ _ I _ still remember his name.”

_ “Anybody that entertainin’ is worth rememberin’.” _

Price opened his mouth and then closed it, conceding the point.

Hanzo was glad for the subject change, returning his attention to eliminating vampires as they rushed forward. With so many people here, it was markedly easier to deal with the nest.

\---

It took a good portion of the night to finally clear out the town and kill the queen, but they had done it. They had sent the wiped hard drive data to Max, who was working on piecing together the information left while they returned to Ena's house to rest before returning to Gibraltar.

At some point, drinks had started being poured, or rather, retrieved from the magical mini fridge. McCree was the most relaxed Hanzo had seen him since the cowboy arrived at Gibraltar, playing pool with Price in the other room. The pair had garnered an audience as they competed for the most impressive trickshot. Even Hanzo was leaning in the doorway, drinking sake from the cup he kept on him.

The uneasy set in McCree's shoulders had disappeared, as had most of the coverings he used to hide himself away with. There was no sign that he was faking his cheer at all, a far cry from the way he acted in Gibraltar. “C'mon Price! I'm playin’ with a handicap!” McCree held up the whiskey bottle he was keeping nearby with a hearty laugh and took another shot.

“Handicap my ass, you can drink Irving under the table!”

“Hey! Children present!” Fio scolded.

“Sorry mama.” Price mumbled, looking ashamed and ducking his head.

After a while, Hanzo grew bored of their antics and retreated to the other room where Hana was also tucked away with a handheld.

“What are you playing?”

Hana glanced up at him and then back down, “Some knock-off Pokemon thing that's kinda silly. Wanna watch?”

Hanzo snorted and then settled nearby, watching in silence as Hana made her way through a game that very much resembled an old school pokemon game, but just wasn't quite right.

It was odd, but entertaining, and he found himself watching until Hana began to nod off. When the handheld slipped from her hand, he retrieved it and saved her progress before placing it nearby so that she could find it.

Ena's father wandered by with the toddler asleep in his arms, heralding the others slowly trickling in until finally, everyone was settling down to sleep.

\---

Hanzo didn't remember falling asleep but he woke to the sounds of footsteps on the stairs and the door opening and closing. A quick look around confirmed that it was McCree, and Hanzo found himself following. What was the cowboy up to?

He paused when he heard voices, listening for a moment.

“--don’t tell your parents…”

“Can I have some too if I don't tell my parents?” McCree chuckled softly, eliciting a laugh from Ena's father.

Hanzo opened the door slowly so that he could peek out and into the kitchen, where Ena's father, son and McCree were sitting at the table with a tub of ice cream between them.

Hanzo relaxed now that he was no longer concerned that McCree might be up to something but continued to watch out of curiosity.

The tenseness in McCree's shoulders had returned, but this was different. Rather than appearing as though he were faking the smile on his face, it seemed more like a weight had been put on him.

The child had crawled from Ena's father's lap and into McCree's, who welcomed him with a laugh and a spoonful of ice cream. The cowboy was surprisingly gentle, and the tenseness seemed to bleed out of his shoulders.

The child fussed, opening his mouth wide and tugging on McCree's clothing when the cowboy didn't immediately give him what he wanted.

Luckily, McCree got the picture quickly and fed the child another spoonful of ice cream with a gentle chuckle, “Okay, okay. Shhh, we don't wanna wake no one.”

The scene went against almost everything Hanzo had witnessed about McCree in the last week and a half. Rather than a sharp, irritable wolf, he was faced with what amounted to nothing more than a puppy, gently cuddling a small child.

They continued to eat until finally, the child's grandfather turned the tub with a cheery, “All gone!”

The boy parroted the action and words, giggling happily.

“Alright, let's get ya cleaned up.” McCree chuckled as he gently wiped at the sticky hands that seemed hell-bent on getting into the empty ice cream tub for the melted bits. The child fussed a little but finally gave in and allowed McCree to clean his face and hands. Once the boy was clean, McCree leaned in and snuggled him, grinning and laughing.

Hanzo would have never thought that the cowboy would be good with children. Not when he snapped at the slightest comment from adults. It was all very strange and confusing.

At some point the boy had turned to face McCree, likely to hug him more easily, much to the cowboy's delight.

“Pawpaw, he has a booboo.”

Hanzo's brow furrowed. Had McCree been injured during the fight? He didn't act injured.

The uneasy set of McCree's shoulders returned for a moment and then he sighed, “Y'know, I've been 'round your family for years and that’s still as unnerving as the first time ya did it.”

“I’m sorry,” He offered a small smile, but he wasn’t apologizing for the child. It was more of an apology for the unnerving quality. “I can blind his eyes to the reason for the pain but he’ll always see it.”

“Yeah, I know. Ain't upset by it. All three of ya have mentioned it at some point. I know I'm messed up.”

Hanzo furrowed his brow deeper at the resigned tone in the cowboy's voice. 'Messed up’? He'd known the man was strange but…

“Pain doesn’t equal broken,” The child's grandfather raised an eyebrow. “I’ve told you this before.”

“I know…” The cowboy heaved a sigh, “Sure don't feel like it though. Especially when people that've known ya the better part of 20 years look at ya like ya wanna do 'em harm.”

“The way they look at you isn’t something you can control.”

The cowboy shrank in around the child still in his arms and bowed his head, “Just keep thinkin’, maybe if I'd tried harder…” There was a crack in McCree's voice, “Done better, maybe they'd forget I was a stupid kid that did stupid things… I know I was an asshole then but...”

Hanzo took a step back. The conversation was twisting into more private matters. He shouldn't stay and yet, curiosity rooted him to the spot.

“Mortals are…” The tall man was considering his words as he stood up and tossed the ice cream tub in the trash. “They pick and choose what they remember and what they remember may not have been what actually happened. You cannot control the way they look at you.”

“I--” McCree shook his head, “I just wish I didn't have to live a lie to have just one person that doesn't look at me like I'm some sort of monster.”

“It get better,” The child in his lap chimed softly, reaching up with both hands to hold the cowboy’s face between them.

“Stop living the lie,” The older man returned with a glass of water and raised an eyebrow. “It’ll get worse before it gets better but being disingenuous will only make it harder.”

McCree was silent for a moment, “I dunno that it  _ can _ get worse, big man. I keep tellin’ myself that I ain't gonna keep forcin’ myself, but then I get around 'em and if I slip even a little, suddenly everyone's down my throat. Everyone keeps sayin’ that they want me around but then everyone seems like they think I'm gonna hurt 'em. Can't tell ya how many times I've considered goin’ back t’ bein’ on my own in the last week. Ain't anymore lonely than bein' on base with a bunch'a folks that are only friends with the mask ya put on everyday.”

Hanzo turned to head back downstairs. This was deeply personal and McCree was confiding in Ena's father, not him. He opened the door and slipped back inside, sitting on the steps to think about McCree's words. He wasn't so strange after all. He was suffering.

“There are people that you’re already around who would catch you if you let yourself take a trust fall, though you may be surprised who.”

Hanzo froze when he realized that he could still hear them. Of all the times to have sensitive hearing. He moved back down into the basement and into one of the rooms where he wouldn't wake any of the others.

Above him, muffled but still somewhat clear, he heard McCree say, “I'll try. Got any other good ole fashioned no-bullshit advice for me while we're here?”

Hanzo groaned as he realized that he could still hear them and then realized McCree had invited the man to read him the same way Hana had. This could not end well.

“Your mother is disappointed with that bounty. Why haven’t you visited her?”

Hanzo started for the stairs and then stopped as McCree chuckled, “You know the answer t’ that. For real though, we're already here. Might as well get it out.”

“It was worth a shot. You already know I’m going to tell you something you don’t want to hear.”

“Some wise man once told me that sometimes folks gotta hear the things they don't wanna so they can get better.”

“A wise man once told  _ me _ that Jesse McCree was an insufferable little shit.”

The cowboy barked out a laugh, devolving into a wheezy sort of cackle, “Guilty.”

After their laughter had subsided, the man spoke again, “All jokes aside, there is nothing I can tell you that you haven't already told yourself.”

“Was afraid you'd say that. Guess I've gone and chatted with ya a few too many times.”

“Well, that's the side effect of having an oracle on tap,” The other male was as resigned as he was amused. “There are only so many things a fume addled virgin can tell you.”

McCree laughed harder, “I thought,” he wheezed, “That was Ena.”

“He's certainly addled, but very much  _ not _ a virgin.”

“Close enough though, right?”

“Close enough.” Even his father seemed to get a good laugh from the landlord's weed habit.

“Think he'll mind if I sleep on the couch up here? Kiddo here looks like he could use a nap and I should probably sleep too but I don't wanna wake nobody.”

“Why don't you go sleep in one of the eight or twelve guest rooms? I don't know why he decided he needed a house with this many guest rooms but someone ought to get some use out of them.”

“You sure he won't mind? Don't wanna impose upon nobody. I really don't mind just takin’ up a couch 'r somethin’.”

“Listen here, child. If my son says anything about it, I'll disown him again. Go sleep on a bed.”

“I-- alright big man, you got it. I'm goin’.” The cowboy's footsteps moved across the ceiling and then faded to slight thumps as they went upstairs.

“Ears to hear come with the burden of knowledge, little dragon. What will you do with yours?”

Hanzo frowned as the once-clear sound of the kitchen cut out, as if he'd been tuned in to a signal that had now gone offline. Ena's father had not only known he was eavesdropping, but wanted him to hear the conversation. It felt like a breach of the cowboy's trust, but, at the same time, had revealed so much he could never have known otherwise. He was right though. What  _would_ he do with the knowledge?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second gift chapter! Happy holidays y'all!
> 
> Those of y'all that read Ladie's stuff may recognize Ena and his father.
> 
> Spooky is named after the the Douglas AC-47 gunship, which was also known as Puff the Magic Dragon. Fio named it that as an inside joke with Ena.
> 
> At some point I intend to release a accompanying 'bestiary' as written by Jesse full of journal entries and oneshots regarding the first time or most notable time Jesse met the creatures listed.


	28. Chapter 28

Jesse carried Ena's child upstairs and to the open door that was obviously the boy's room and tucked him into bed. Everything about this was bittersweet, if only because some part of him wanted something like this and was jealous that Ena, of everyone he knew, was the one to get it. He looked away, glancing up at the decorations for a moment to clear his head. They trailed over the cute wooden toys and cartoonish illustrations before sticking on the name above the door. Matteo. He looked back to the kid, who had starfished across the bed in the short time Jesse had looked away and gave a humorless huff of laughter. “Hope you get better use outta that name then I did.” He gently moved the blankets where the poor kid's feet were sticking out and smiled, “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

He shuffled to one of the open rooms and fell into the bed face down, hoping for even a few more hours sleep.

He woke up to the sound of Price, Irving and Fio arguing over what would be for breakfast, feeling no better than he had when he went to sleep. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his face, hoping that they'd all shut the hell up. The sound of little Matteo whining got him moving though. Something compelled him to go check on the child who was  _ very  _ upset.

He entered the room just behind Ena who looked back and then grinned. “Heeey, Uncle Jess is here. What a bro!”

Jesse gave a confused expression before the smell caught his nose, and he caught Ena's arm as he tried to make his way out. “Nuh uh, ain't my kid.”

“Shit.” Ena’s grin didn’t drop any but he shrugged before pulling a hair tie from under the piles of bracelets on his arm and pulled his hair back into a tail. “Well, it was worth a shot, I guess. Comere, big boy.” He walked to the bed and opened the top drawer with a one handed parental magic trick because it clearly had a drawer lock on the inside. “Lay down, dude. I’m hurrying.”

“Poopie!” Matteo was not comfortable. Not even a little.

“I know, little man. I’m getting there.” He pulled wipes and another diaper from the drawer and as much as the kid wanted it off, he  _ also _ did not want a cold wipe on his junk. “Sit still, Matt. Seriously. Sit. Still. I can’t--” Ena grunted and ended up catching one of the flailing legs between his own so that they didn’t end up with shit smeared all over the sheets. For all his fighting, once the stinky thing was off, pulled up into a ball and a new one was on, Matteo was a happy boy. “There. Jesus christ, you’d think I was murdering him.”

“Well, I mean. I can't blame him.” Jesse frowned and shook his head as little Matt went running past him.

“Food!”

Shit. The  _ stairs _ . Jesse whirled and scooped him up. “C'mon kiddo. Let's get you breakfast.”

“Yeah! Food!”

“‘I ain’t never gonna have kids’ he says.” Ena snorted, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Says the guy with better dad-stincts than me.”

“I probably ain't. I got sixty mil on my head. I couldn't settle down if I  _ wanted to _ ,” And he did want to. God, it would be so nice to retire in peace with a farm and a significant other and maybe a little one, “and ya know it.”

Ena grinned, low and slow as he walked past the cowboy. “Do I?”

Jesse grunted at Ena, “Me 'n yer pops had a chat last night, and y'all may be able t' read fates or whatever, but it don't change that the  _ entire world _ wants my head on a platter and is offerin’ sixty mil to get it.”

_ “Food! Want food!” _ Matteo fussed, tugged at Jesse's shirt.

“Okay, okay. Shhh. We'll go get food.” Jesse crooned as he headed downstairs.

“Eh, you just need somebody who gives as little fucks as you do,” He shrugged, reaching out to tap his finger against Matt’s nose. He was rewarded with an upset cry. “Also, anytime you want to borrow my kid, feel free. I think he likes you better anyway.”

“Eh, probably cause I don't change his diaper.” Jesse snorted, ignoring the first part of the statement. “I'm the cool uncle that gives him food and hugs. I'd like me too.”

“I need a cool uncle that gives  _ me _ food and hugs.” Ena sighed, shuffling in his back pocket and pulled out a tin before putting it back. Fio didn’t want him smoking upstairs and he’d respect that but it didn’t mean he didn’t instinctively go for it.

“Sorry bud, can't be both yer uncles and unlike him, you can get yer own food.”

“Damn.” He snorted, shaking his head before freezing in his tracks as little Matteo parroted it back to him.    
  
“No no no no--” Ena had gone into full scale begging by the time they made it to the kitchen but Matteo kept chiming ‘Damn!’

Fio turned from arguing to her son and raised an eyebrow at Jesse who would have put his hands up innocently if they hadn't been holding Matteo. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head instead, nodding toward Ena. He was  _ not _ taking the blame for that one.

Fio sighed and rolled her eyes, “Suppose it would have happened sooner or later with these idiots hanging out in the basement and Max dropping in whenever he feels like. I guess I should be glad it wasn't his first word, and that it's  _ only _ damn.”

“It could be so much worse, Max  _ is _ a content warning. He opens his mouth and the rating goes up one or two levels,” Irving chuckled as he chopped peppers and onions at the chopping board. It seemed omelettes had been decided upon for breakfast. He couldn’t cook for shit but he was always good to be stuck on knife duty.

“Max has only been PG-13 around Matt! I'm super proud of him.”

“Wow… I kinda am too.” Jesse chuckled. “I didn't know he had it in him.”

“I don’t think any of us did.” Irving chuckled.

The others slowly trickled into the kitchen as omelettes were made and passed around, starting with Hanzo and Lucio and ending with Ms. Song and Lena.

Jesse tucked himself away in the living room with Matteo, offering the small boy food from his plate while avoiding the very group he’d showed up to worry over. He wasn’t ready to deal with the offhand snark yet. He took a swig of coffee as Lena dragged herself in to sit with him, leaning on his shoulder with a yawn.

“This is nice. Think Winston would mind if we stayed here?” She mumbled softly.   
  
Jesse chuckled, “Even if he didn’t, pretty sure the three folks trapped here with us might.”

“We could fly them back and then stay here.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed… certainly is better for me here.”

“You do seem less wound up,” she smiled and then yawned.

“An’ you look like you could use more coffee.”

“Mhmm,” she nodded, but made no move to get up.

When the group in the kitchen got rowdy, Lúcio retreated into the living room with them, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Naw, go ahead. Lena might sleep on ya but--”

He was interrupted by the chiming of his comm. Oh boy. “Hold that thought… McCree.”

“McCree, what do you think you are doing?”

“Right now? Eating omelettes with a toddler, Lena and Lúcio.”

That seemed to give Winston pause and there were more than a few noises of confusion before Winston finally spoke again, “A toddler?! McCree, what happened? Whose toddler? Where are you right now?”

“Uh, in order… Got t’ Mexico and realized that they were gonna exterminate the vampire nest with the help of some friends--”

“McCree…” Winston groaned. “What kind of friends?”

“Blackwatch friends?”

_ “McCree… _ ” The groan became more exasperated.

“Don't 'McCree’ me! They ain't Talon. They're all retired, and believe me, Matt's grandpa would never allow these folks  _ near _ his grandson if he didn't trust them.”

“Can you prove that?”

“He's a spirit guide, Winston. He can look right through anybody. There ain't shit Talon could do t’ The Big Man. I tried shankin’ 'im when I was eighteen and bent my knife. Didn't even wrinkle his clothes.”

“McCree, what someone is doesn’t--”

“When he met Moira, he told me to walk the other way and never let her touch me. Twenty years later, she set off her emergency beacon and Max almost ended up caught by Talon. I got it on good faith that I can trust ‘im.”

“I see.”   
  
“We even got proof that Talon was behind the nest in Sabinas. One of the basements had some hard drives, Max should be sendin’ ya the information once he’s got it out of them.”

“Just get back here quickly, McCree. I gave you permission to go get the away team, not involve yourself in the mission and--”   
  
“I was involved in the mission the second Lucio called me! The hell was I supposed t’ do, Winston? Tell everyone but the team  _ you  _ sent in unprepared t’ go home and then sit back and watch them and Lena get killed? We’ve been over this. I  _ showed _ you what they were up against. If you don’t wanna rely on outside help that’s fine, but ya gotta make sure yer intel is straight or yer gonna get people killed! As it stands that nest is scrubbed, we got proof that Talon planted it,  _ and _ no one got hurt or worse.”   
  
Lucio was watching him with eyes wide and Jesse realized that he’d raised his voice at Winston without meaning to. Hanzo and Hana were in the doorway, Hana’s eyes suspicious and judging while Hanzo was unreadable. His eyes flicked back to the comm, a frown pulling at his mouth. He wasn’t going to apologize. The mission was a success and no one got hurt.   
  
“Hey man,” Lucio leaned over to look at the comm, “If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me. I called him. I got him involved. He was just doing what he could. After this? I’d trust him with my life any day.”

“We’ll uh… we’ll talk about this when all of you are back on base.” Winston mumbled.

The connection cut out and Jesse sighed and buried his face in a hand, leaning on the arm of the couch.

“Bad monkey!” Matt scowled, “Monkey is mean!”

Jesse huffed out a laugh, and then curled around the toddler. Good kid. He smiled gently, relaxing again and forgetting that Hanzo and Hana were staring at him. This was nice. Maybe if he fucked up his probation he could stay here, or wait, no maybe it would be better to stay with Eagle. Price and Irving got a bit too rowdy for his tastes. Staying with Eagle would probably be good for him. He glanced back up at Lúcio with the smile still on his face, “Thanks for havin’ my back.”

“Man, you got up before dawn to bail us out. If that isn't a real friend, I don't know what is.” Lucio reach around behind Lena to pat Jesse's shoulder and, for just a moment, the loneliness that Matt had pointed out as a 'booboo’ lessened. “We all owe you one.”

His eyes flicked up to Hana and Hanzo and then away, “Nah, y'all don't owe me nothin’.” He didn't want Hanzo and Hana to 'owe’ him. He didn't want  _ anyone _ to owe him. It never ended well.

\---

Jesse dragged his feet getting back on the carrier. This place was good for him. Everyone here knew that he was all bark and no bite. He sat cross-legged with Matteo, who had practically become glued to his side and offered him small wooden toys, occasionally taking one for himself and spinning a tale for the kid. He knew everyone else was getting loaded up but he didn't want to leave.

Finally, Lena zipped into the room and hovered at the doorway. “Come on, love. We have to get going.”

“I know...”

“We can't stay here forever.”

“I know, I  _ know,  _ Lena.” He swallowed as Matteo began to fuss. “Shhh kiddo, it's alright.”

Matteo’s face screwed up and Jesse held his arms out, “It's alright, c'mon kiddo. Don't cry.”

Matteo buried himself against Jesse's chest, whimpering softly.

“I don't think I'm allowed t’ leave.” He mumbled as he petted Matt's hair, just like Eagle did. “An’ a toddler sure does make a more convincing argument than Winston at the moment.”

“Jesse… we need you.”

“So does he.”

Lena sighed, “He has his family and Price and Irving to watch over him. We  _ need _ you around Jesse. If this mission doesn't prove that, I don't know what will.”

Jesse frowned and then pushed himself up with Matteo in his arms. When the toddler began to fuss again he quietly shushed him. “I gotta go, kiddo.”

“No!” Matteo cried, squirming while Jesse did his best to shift the boy's weight so that he wouldn't drop him.

“Easy kiddo... I'll come back.”

“No!” The cries had turned to wails, loud and piercing and everything in Jesse screamed to make it stop.

He wasn’t sure what was causing it, but it was making that familiar strained itch along his spine kick up. He couldn’t just change here! His mouth pulled to one side. He didn’t have an urge to hurt anything like what usually welled up behind that feeling. He forced it down as he cuddled the toddler closer to him. “I don’t want to go either… but I  _ have  _ to.”   
  
The wailing only got louder and it broke Jesse’s heart.

“I’ll come back. I promise.”

There wasn't much that could be done about Matteo's wailing, that much was becoming obvious, so Jesse kept walking and hoping that the toddler would settle down.

He soon learned that toddlers didn't work that way. He'd never had any real experience with young kids, the youngest ones he ever met were Fareeha and Brigitte and by the time Brigitte came around base, she was already in her pre-teens and Jesse had been a 'weird older brother'.

He finally got outside, having been left to his fate by Lena, and sighed as the wails turned to ear-splitting screams. He cast a weary look at Ena and a grin, “I don’t think I’m allowed to leave.”

“Well, you know, the men in my family seem to have a bad habit of liking you better.” He shrugged, trying to hoist the child into his arms only to have him become dead weight intent on flinging himself back to the ground.

“Hey, c’mon now. He only likes me because I don’t come with any downsides like y’know, diaper changes. It’s like with grandparents, all they do is spoil the kid ‘n give ‘em back hopped up on sugar ‘n caffiene.”

Ena’s longsuffering expression became something closer to frustration than amusement as he finally just sat the wailing kid on the ground and let him thrash. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Jesse wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and suddenly he felt awkward being here, but reined in the emotions. Not that they wouldn’t see right through him, but it probably helped if his brain didn’t run away with the feelings that came with the demon whispering that he never should have come here and that he always ruined things.

When the young spirit guide looked up at Jesse, he sighed and pushed his long hair out of his face. “It’s not like that--and I didn’t have to read your mind to know what you’re thinking either.” He raised an eyebrow. “He’s just been extra obnoxious as of late and the last few days have been the only days Matt’s been anything but a terror. It’s probably just because you’re a new person but it still sucks not to be able to do anything for your kid.” As if to accent his point, the baby launched into yet another fit of screams.

Jesse let out a puff of air, a sigh but not really, followed by turning his head away as Ena read him like an open book. He wasn't sure why he was surprised that Ena didn't have to pull any kind of spirit guide magic to see those demons eat at him. “Sorry, I uh--” He rubbed his neck the way he always did when he suddenly felt awkward, “I'm sure bein’ a spirit guide ain't helpin’ him none. Maybe it'll get better when he's older and can understand all of it better?” Jesse wasn't sure how to help, but he'd always tried.

“Probably,” Ena shrugged, squatting down to watch the toddler and then smile a little as Matt opened one eye to look at him before screaming again. “It took me to about 40 or 50 before I could learn to turn it off. Longest 40 years of my life.”

“Cain’t imagine. 's bad enough bein' empathetic as all hell. Dunno that I could do what y'all do.”

“Imagine being  _ both.” _

Jesse gave a wince, and a mumbled, “No thanks. Hard pass.”

“That’s why I’m not listening most of the time,” Ena tapped his ears. “The voices are there. Painful souls are  _ loud. _ So loud even the toddler notices.” He made a point of raising an eyebrow. “But I’ve got it turned down as low as I can get it because if I connect to it, I can’t make rational decisions like Dad can. I feel the pain too and then I do what people who are in pain do. Spoiler, stupid shit happens when you’re desperate to stop the pain.”

“Wouldn't know nothin’ about doin’ stupid shit to stop pain.” Jesse snorted and then the half-hearted smile dropped. Sometimes he felt bad being around the guides because he  _ knew  _ he was messed up and broken and ragged.

Ena snorted at him with a look that spoke volumes.

Jesse just gave him a cheesy grin, then looked over at the carrier where Hana was watching him, arms crossed and tapping her foot, “Guess I shouldn't keep 'em waiting much longer.”

The second he stepped away, Matteo who had previously settled down, returned to screeching as if his world was ending. Jesse sighed as he knelt down, trying to console the toddler that had taken to clinging to his leg. “C'mon now partner, ain't no need for all this.”

“Jesse…” Matteo whined, clinging tighter and threatening to break Jesse's heart some more.

Jesse finally pried the boy off of his leg, and with some trouble, managed to hand the boy off to his father. “I think you oughta take 'im before he makes me die of a broken heart.”

“Careful, I might just let him go with you.” Ena threatened, taking the toddler and bouncing him lightly. “I trust you with my life--which means I will  _ absolutely _ pawn my child off on you. I mean, wouldn’t wanna separate a boy and his dog.”

“If it weren't across the ocean and a dangerous place t’ be, I'd probably take ya up on that offer, but the base ain't secure enough for me t’ feel right takin’ him there.” He paused, as if just realizing the joke tacked to the end and pursed his lips. “I might chew all yer left shoes if yain’t careful.”

“Worth it to see you and him happy.” Ena even jokingly toed off his left sneaker and kicked it in Jesse’s direction.

Jesse roared with laughter and gently shoved Ena's shoulder, “Get outta here you.” When the laughter faded, he patted Ena's shoulder. “See ya next time I'm in the area, partner.”

Jesse turned and headed for the carrier, practically dragging himself away from the place that would be good for him and back to the place than needed him. Back to the side-eyed looks and frowns when he got snappy.

Hana turned back to head inside the carrier, flopping down near Lúcio. Hanzo was up front with Lena, though Jesse wasn't sure why. However, whatever they'd been talking about, it ended whenever Jesse got on board. Somehow, he couldn't help but think it was about him. Worse before it got better, he reminded himself as he went to go sit toward the back of the carrier, away from the others.

Hanzo followed, sitting much closer than Jesse would have expected. The archer was still at a distance, but closer to him than the other two, and Jesse was sure that wasn't accidental.

He glanced up, caught Hanzo's eyes and the archer raised a brow, “I was convinced I would have to explain to Winston that you'd been eaten by a toddler and would not be returning to Gibraltar.” 

The archer's face didn't even so much as twitch into a smile, as deadpan and cold as usual but Jesse's eyebrows met his hairline, got acquainted and made permanent residential plans as he blinked at Hanzo. His mouth was slack for a moment and then he snorted and erupted into laughter, burying his face in his hat.

\---

The rest of the ride back to Gibraltar was significantly less eventful, and Jesse tipped his hat down not long after they were airborne and he realized that the single joke was all that Hanzo was going to say. That was perfectly fine by him, he wasn't sure that a conversation with the archer would go well anyway.

The jostling of the carrier as it settled and powered down was enough to wake him from his short but pleasant nap. He stretched slowly, relishing the comfortable strain in his shoulders and groaned quietly.

“Have a good nap, love?” Lena teased gently, plopping down next to him.

Jesse hummed, rubbed at his face and slowly  tipped his hat back up into his head. “Always do when yer flyin’, darlin’.”

She huffed out a breathy laugh, smacking him gently on the arm, “Oh, stop it!”

“Too smooth?” He winked, “Wouldn't wanna give Ems any reason t' worry…”

“She wouldn't, because she is much better at talking than you are  _ and  _ better looking!”

“ _ Ouch _ . Mercy on my  _ soul.” _

She smacked his thigh next, “Get up you, silly git.”

“I'm goin’,” He chuckled, “Jesus, so cruel to me.” The trip, minus the shaky ground where half of his teammates were concerned, had done wonders to lift his mood. Of course, it probably wouldn't last once they got in and debriefed with Winston and he had to face the hand-slap lecture regarding his behavior  _ again. _ He almost missed Morrison, if only because, in addition to a better researched op, he wouldn't have to suffer through the nervous scoldings of a scientist who was doing his best. Jesse couldn't even be angry with Winston, who was just sadly in over his head.

Most of the boys in blue didn't have to deal with Talon. They didn't have wetwork missions and interrogations. There were no graveyard shifts--Max called them pindrop missions-- but what they chose to call them didn't change what they were. Towns completely empty except for the bodies, where not even the wind dared breathe for fear of setting off the thing they'd been sent in to kill.

He shoved himself up and followed Lena out and toward the conference room where he assumed the rest of the team and Winston were already waiting.

“Don't worry, love. I think everyone thinks you did the right thing, Winston is just on edge right now.”

“Ain't we all…” Jesse snorted.

“Plus, you  _ do _ have a knack for disturbing the peace.”

She was met with a huff of laughter, “Me? What about Rein? I'm awake every mornin’ at a quarter t' six cause he starts singin’ Hasselhoff while he's cookin’. I didn’ even know the man knew Country Roads 'til he was bellowin’ it at the crack of fuckin’ dawn.”

“Did you sing with him?”

“...Maybe.” Jesse muttered begrudgingly. That'd been the day before the team left for Mexico. He'd just gotten used to waking up to some song he didn't know but that morning, as he dragged his sorry carcass into the kitchen for coffee, he'd caught the all-too-familiar opening lines. He got caught up on the slight differences for a moment before he ended up joining the giant and soulfully crooning the words to the old familiar song as if he should have been playing a guitar in some small town bar in the South for tips.

He was thankful that no one else was ever up that early, or at least, not awake and in the area. He knew for a fact that Hanzo was always awake that early, he'd gone down to the training rooms early and found one occupied then promptly decided to figure out when Hanzo left by technically breaking his probation. He'd asked Athena what hours Hanzo frequented the training rooms on the premise that keeping his schedule at different times than the archer would keep him from interacting with the man and out of any inevitable arguments.

She had hesitated at first, decided his logic was sound and informed him when Hanzo usually left the training rooms but not when he entered them. When he'd asked, she'd promptly given him a snarky, “Earlier than you will ever be caught awake of your own volition.”

He hadn't even realized they were at their destination until something paused his autopilot for a second. Laughter. He glanced up to see Hana and Lúcio gathered beside Hanzo, who had broken his stoic composure and was laughing along with them. Anxiety clawed at him, starting between his shoulder blades and moving up toward the back of his mind and tightening the muscles until it was almost nauseating to move.  _ ‘They're laughing at you, stupid.’  _ He swallowed it, forced himself to think of anything else as he took his seat, listening in almost instinctively trying to prove those voices wrong.

“The dude listens to Hasselhoff! He had to have been raised by his grandparents!”

_ Reinhardt _ . Jesse relaxed. They were talking about Reinhardt. He chuckled and leaned on an arm, “What's wrong with Hasselhoff?”

“Aw man! Not you too.”

“Fifty points from Gryffindor?”

Lúcio deadpanned at him, “Dude, I'm pretty sure that reference is older than you are.”

“Mmmm, only slightly. But in all seriousness, there's some good old school song remixes. Don't knock the classics, they remix well.”

“Okay, you get your points back.” Lucio snorted. “So what do you listen to?”

Jesse opened his mouth to explain that he didn’t really have a preference, despite everyone’s teasing that his music tastes came in ‘both kinds, country and western’ when Winston shuffled into the room with a datapad and a stack of papers.

He looked frazzled and upset, like he’d needed the time to compose himself before coming in here. The paperwork was set on the table in front of them and the datapad was connected to the holoprojector for them all to see. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth and the closed it, looking down at the papers on the table.

The scientist shifted nervously before finally taking a breath, “First of all, before we begin this debrief and I hear from you all, I want to apologize. First to the three of you, for sending you on a mission I should have better researched. The information was readily available if I had looked harder.” He adjusted his glasses and gestured at the papers on the table. “This is the information that you should have had going into that mission. All of you are free to look over it if you so choose.”

Something in Winston's voice sounded as if he hoped they wouldn't. Jesse didn't reach for the papers. It wasn't his mission. He'd been involved, sure, and had to chew on Winston a little for endangering three agents that included a pair of celebrities. Celebrities that the public would  _ definitely  _ notice missing, but it wasn't supposed to be his mission.

When no one immediately reached for the papers, Winston moved on to the data on the holoscreen that Jesse had already started looking over. Emails in one folder, 'experiment notes’ in another… It sure didn't paint a pretty picture.

“Up here is the data retrieved from the hard drives. It appears that Talon has been testing new transmission methods for the… disease that causes vampirism.”

“Disease?” Jesse narrowed his eyes at Winston, “Vampires ain't Hollywood zombies, Winston. There's more to it than them bitin’ people.” Unlike werewolves, vampires couldn't change humans through saliva. Instead, their saliva contained powerful anesthetics which tended to cause a high and make victims more willing to let the vampire feed. He may have known that from personal experience...

“I am  _ aware _ , McCree, but much like with that which causes  _ lycanthropy _ , there is a marked change in vampire blood and saliva. It is not a disease in the traditional sense, but it is the closest definition we have.”

Jesse ducked his head down as Hana gave him a sour look and Hanzo regarded him the same unreadable expression he'd had when Jesse had raised his voice at Winston. He guessed it was a disease in a way. It just made it seem so… mundane. Like you could just stave off vampirism with copious amounts of oranges and a healthy diet. Some might argue that you  _ could  _ stave it off with garlic, but those people had never met Max.

“Talon is attempting to weaponize these changes--”

“Course they are.” Jesse grumbled, completely unsurprised by the news. “Because why  _ wouldn't  _ they with a crazy geneticist--”

“McCree, while I understand your frustrations--”

“Ohoho,” he raised an eyebrow, “They haven't been frustrations in at  _ least _ eight years.”

“Are they going to be a problem?”

Jesse snorted, “Nope.” He popped the 'p’ a little harder than usual, “Just means I have a few  _ more _ bones to pick with Talon than usual.”

Winston sighed, “That aside, the towns of Sabinas and Aguhta were an experiment with airborne infection.”

“Fuck.” Jesse didn't need Winston to continue to know where that was going.

“While the towns proved it was possible, overall, Talon considers it a failure.”

“No money to make if the whole town turns…” Lena mumbled.

Jesse frowned, continuing to be wholly unsurprised. He wished he could still manage the look of horror and disgust that painted the two younger agents faces. At this point it just seemed like the same shit on a different day in a different town.

“So what now? We can't keep letting them get away with this!” Lúcio grimaced.

“Ain't much  _ can _ be done, same problem Blackwatch had.” Jesse sighed, leaning forward onto his hands, “Talon's like a hydra that someone took a brush hog to. I know a few heads. Blackwatch was lookin' into them before everythin' went to hell… a guy named Vialli, some omnic named Maximilien out in Monaco. Doomfist's locked up and … 'tonio's dead. Reyes took care of 'im years ago. Probably coulda gotten t’ Maximilien if it weren't for Venice.”

“Probably could have done a lot of things if it weren't for Venice,” Lena pointed out.

Jesse snorted derisively, "Yeah well, when I get t' hell I'll let 'im know you said so."

Lena sighed at him.

“Then we go after those heads and cauterize the wounds when we are finished.” Hanzo raised his eyebrow.

“Easier said'n done, or else we wouldn't be havin' this talk. Maximilien won't be hard t’ find, but he runs a casino. Makes cuttin’ him out… a bit difficult if we're committed t’ white hat work. Technically, he ain't done nothin’ illegal. His record is fuckin’ spotless.” He spat the last bit as if it had personally insulted his mama. “Dunno where Vialli is, and there ain't no tellin’ who else is waitin’ in the wings.”

“Great.” Hana pursed her lips, tone sarcastic.

Jesse tipped his hat down, feeling like there was more she wasn't saying, but then again there was  _ always  _ more people weren't saying.

“Then we find Vialli. Find out who else is in charge, right? Take down the ones that have criminal records.”

Jesse looked back up at Lúcio. Part of him wondered how long it would be before the red tape beat the optimism out of him. Jesse wasn't even sure they could do anything about Talon. After all, Venice had gone _so_ _well_.

“What about that crazy bint Moira?”

Jesse frowned. He wasn't sure he'd go that far, because at some point, she'd been Max's friend despite Jesse's warnings. “Dunno. I left and stopped worryin’ bout where Talon was hidin’ all their people ‘less those people came after me.”

Hana pursed her lips but Jesse couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. It wasn’t his job after he left. Sure, he took out Talon when he crossed paths, but she didn’t know. She didn’t understand the kind of things Talon did to people without even laying a finger on them. That led his thoughts elsewhere.

“If we’re gonna be fightin’ Talon y’all better get used t’ this mess. Cause it don’t get better.”

\---

The debrief concluded not long after, shortly following Winston announcing that Jesse would be having some of his probation terms lifted. Particularly those dealing with mission intel.

Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets, mood sour again as he chewed on a cigar and headed for the little garden he’d shown to Bastion. He should be pleased, after all he was able to make sure disasters like this mission didn’t happen again, but intel wasn’t really his strong suit. One would think it would be, what with being in Blackwatch, but that had always been Max’s thing. Jesse was a boots on the ground kind of guy, able to follow directions from his eye in the sky without missing a beat. It was better than nothing though and it’d keep him busy. Maybe he just needed to be busy again.

His comm buzzed and he wasn’t sure he remembered turning the ringer down. Maybe before he’d boarded the carrier? Might have. He glanced at the display, seeing that it was from Winston. Well, the scientist  _ had  _ said he had something for him to look over…

He flicked it open and scanned the information quickly, brows furrowing for a moment. Background search on a potential recruit.  _ That _ he could do, and it gave him good reason to not be social for a few days. His step picked up as he turned on his heel to head back for his room.  _ ‘Satya Vaswani. Defecting Vishkar architech.’  _ Something smelled fishy about that. A few days now seemed too short.  _ ‘Better get to work.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys welcome back! Despite eating into my buffer at Christmas, I've got about half of it rebuilt and I can't wait to write Chapter 31 :3 It's gonna be a fun one.


	29. Chapter 29

Stupid, infuriating cowboy! Hanzo growled as he gathered his belongings and left the training rooms late for the fourth time that week. Ever since they had returned from Mexico and McCree had been reinstated to mission intel, the cowboy had been practically a ghost on base. He appeared at meals and the last several times Hanzo had asked Athena where McCree could be found, she had only responded one of two answers. 'He is in Winston's lab, Agent Shimada’ or 'He is in his room and is working. He has requested to not be disturbed.’

He had hoped to catch the man alone so that he could talk to him, thank him and present the man with his damn gift but so far, the cowboy was being impossible. Normally, he'd be impressed with the man's work ethic and dedication. Right now it was maddening.

He stormed down the hall back to his room, sighing as he placed the wrapped gift back on his dresser to wait another day. Social butterfly, hah! He fell backward into his bed with a huff and staring up at the ceiling. He was too restless for meditation, and it was too early for lunch but too late for anything else.

“Athena, where is Agent McCree?”

“Agent McCree is in Winston's lab. He should be done shortly if you would like me to tell him that you are looking for him.”

“No thank you Athena, I will wait until he is not busy.”

“He just finished the dossier that Winston had him working on. If you'd like, I could…  _ suggest _ to him that he should do something other than stay in his room in front of a holopad.”

Hanzo snorted at the AI’s sass. “I will be in training room 4A, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course Agent Shimada. I am sure he will enjoy his gift… even if Doctor Zeigler would disapprove.”

“She disapproves of everything,” he retorted with a roll of his eyes before snatching up the box again and hurrying off to wait for the cowboy.

\---

What Athena failed to inform him was that 'soon’ meant another hour and a half, and he'd almost given up to go for lunch when the door slid open and the cowboy paused in the doorway, a banana halfway to his mouth.

“Well... shit. Sorry Athena, all booked up. Guess it'll have to wait.” The cowboy did a loose about-face as he hurried to leave.

“McCree.”

The cowboy paused with one foot out the door, tensing up, “Whatcha need, Shimada? I'm sorry fer interruptin’. Didn't realize you were in here.”

“You are not interrupting. I was waiting here. I have been meaning to talk to you since Mexico.”

That only served to confuse the cowboy, it seemed. McCree turned back around halfway, head tilted to one side but didn't make any move to approach. “Yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that. Been busy.”

Hanzo nodded, “Athena said a dossier… correct?”

Work seemed to be an easier subject for the cowboy because he finished turning, relaxed a little and hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his faded blue jeans, “Yeah, Winston asked me if I'd help him look into some of the stuff he needs done. Was supposed t’ just be checkin’ over his stuff, but I kinda ended up takin’ over the dossier. Got a Vishkar architech by the name of Satya Vaswani lookin’ t’ leave Vishkar. Apparently, she wasn't too happy about Brazil.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow, “Does Lúcio know?” The young DJ had made no effort to hide his distaste of the company or its actions in Brazil.

“Not yet. Told Winston that I wanted t’ make sure she was all clear before he okayed her. Call it paranoia but after Talon snuck into Blackwatch like they did, I ain't takin’ chances. I think Winston is gonna talk to him and the team before we let her on base.”

Admirable. Hanzo nodded as he listened but the cowboy still carried his shoulders too high to be relaxed.

“So, anythin’ else?”

Impatient too. “Yes. About Mexico…” Hanzo shifted so that he could retrieve the package beside him and stand. “I wanted to thank you for your efforts, as well as apologize for my insults. They were… out of line.”

McCree shifted his weight and tilted his head up some so his eyes were more visible. He looked confused but the slight tug of a smile was reassuring.

Hanzo closed the distance between them and held the gift out in both hands, “ _ Tsuma-- _ It is not much, but I got you this.”

The cowboy hesitated a moment, eyes flicking between the box and Hanzo, “Ya didn't have to trouble yerself like that.”

The words almost stopped Hanzo in his tracks and he only barely caught the surprise before it reached his face. “It was no trouble. I'd like you to have it.”

Another slight hesitation, as if McCree wasn't sure of himself before he reached out, with both hands, and accepted the gift. “Thank you, it's beautiful. That was very kind of ya.” The cowboy bowed, “I'm sure I'll love it.”

Perhaps there was hope for the cowboy yet. Hanzo returned the bow with a slight smile, “It is nothing. Have a good day, McCree.”

“You too, Shimada.”

Hanzo schooled his expression all the way back to his room, but broke into a grin once inside. Not only had that gone better than he'd expected, but McCree had also surprised him with his politeness! Logic said that the knowledge had come from Genji, but even so, the fact that McCree had been willing to show that level of politeness and respect…

Hanzo sighed as he fell back on his bed for the second time that day. It was pity they'd started on such bad terms. Luckily, it seemed like McCree didn't hold grudges like so many other Americans.

Hanzo lay there until lunch, deciding to do very little now that he’d delivered the gift to McCree. After all, he’d started on the new training simulations that Athena had dug out of the newly restored databanks. Those databanks had also harbored some other interesting things, including old score cards for Gabriel Reyes, a much younger McCree, Ana Amari and many others.   
  
It seemed McCree was  _ very  _ out of practice, if his previous times and scores were anything to go by. Hanzo had been making due with training against those times, competing against ghosts of heroes long since deceased and wondering how McCree had let himself slip so much.

Even when he'd been on the run from his family he had had time to keep up his regimen. Lack of discipline. That had to be it. McCree was undisciplined and stopped working out and staying in shape as soon as he wasn't required to. Hanzo frowned as he pushed himself up. No. Lack of discipline didn't seem to be McCree's problem. Not with how quickly he got back to training. A lack of proper facilities, perhaps? That seemed more likely.

Lunch wouldn't be anything big, just whatever he decided to make himself. The team in Russia hadn't returned yet, which meant Reinhardt wouldn't be cooking. McCree had seemed content to make various quick few-ingredient meals, eat quickly in Ms. Oxton’s company and then disappear again. He paused at the sound of someone in the kitchen already, and the soft whistling suggested that it wasn't Ms. Oxton.

He pushed the door open to find exactly who he expected to be there lifting the lid off the slow cooker that had been in there since last night. The whole kitchen smelled of something a little bit meaty, a little spicy but very delicious.

He hazarded a peek past the cowboy as McCree shifted to grab a spoon and frowned at the black, lumpy concoction that inhabited the slow-cooker. That couldn't be the same thing that smelled so good. He turned back to the refrigerator to find something less questionable in appearance.

“Y’ goin’ for food?”

“Yes.” It felt weird talking to the cowboy but it didn't seem like the man bore him any ill will.

“Dunno how ya feel about black beans and beef, but yer welcome t’ some if ya want any. 'S good on tortillas with some avocado, tomato 'n cheese.”

“I have heard worrying rumors about your cooking…” Hanzo teased, snorting softly.

When the cowboy fell silent for a moment and Hanzo looked back, realizing that McCree may not have taken it as a joke. Sure enough, he was met with narrowed eyes and a puzzled expression.

“The peppers. I have been warned you prefer your food...how did Ms. Oxton put it? 'Hot enough to ignite jet fuel’?

It seemed that was enough to make McCree realize that he was being teased and he snorted and then laughed. “Well, I make no promises but I'll say that there's only a few chiles in there. And some cumin, paprika and chipotle pepper for flavor.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow but then turned and shut the refrigerator, which hadn't had any particularly appealing prospects anyway. “Should I warn Dr. Zeigler and sign a waiver, just in case?”

“Maybe.” The cowboy winked, “But given the way I've seen you eat shit with wasabi, I think you'll be fine.”

Hanzo snorted. “I suppose that is fair. I think I will refrain from putting cheese on mine, however.”

McCree nodded and turned to the fridge, fishing out a few tomatoes, several avocadoes, a container of white cheese and then working on preparing them. “Athena, would you be a doll 'n let Lena, Ms. Song 'n Lúcio know lunch is ready?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, darlin’.”

McCree was efficient with the knife, slicing up the avocados and dicing the tomatoes quickly. Then again, he supposed when one didn't have to worry about chopping their fingers off, being fast was significantly easier. Even so, it appeared as though he had plenty of experience as well.

“Got tortillas out next to the stove over there, do me a favor 'n set the stove t’ medium?”

Hanzo looked up from where he was watching the cowboy dice up the tomato, but then did as the cowboy requested.

Lena appeared moments later in a blur of blue, stopping next to McCree who barely moved.

“Ain’t no one on base ‘cept the three of us, Ms. Song, Lúcio, Winston ‘n Bastion. It ain’t gon’ disappear if ya walk like a normal person.”   
  
“Rubbish! I’ve seen how you eat.”

The cowboy opened his mouth, then closed it, “You know what? That's totally fair. You wanna help Shimada with them tortillas while I finish this stuff up?”

Why did he need help? Surely McCree could just  _ tell _ him what to do.

“Sure thing, love!”

Hanzo half-expected her to zip across the short distance between the two counters but instead, she practically skipped.

“We just warming them up or should I get the butter?”

“Jus’ warm em.”

Ms. Oxton fished out a pan and plunked it on the stove before glancing over. He hadn't even realized he was scowling until she quirked her mouth, looked over at McCree and then back to him. 'Did he say something?’ She mouthed at him.

Hanzo blinked in confusion, brows pinching together. 'Why couldn't he just tell me?’

‘Oh! He's just keeping me from eating all the avocado.’

That was it? That was why she was sent to help him? He covered his mouth to hold back a laugh and then leaned on the counter to watch as she warmed up the tortillas and placed them on a plate with sheets of parchment paper between them.

“Right, guess that's everything.” McCree said as he put the knife in the sink.

Hanzo waited and watched patiently while McCree spooned the bean and meat mixture in the center of a few tortillas and sprinkled them with cheese, tomato and shredded lettuce that he had pulled from the refrigerator. He crushed up a few slices of avocado with a fork and scooped them onto his tortillas before rolling them up and wandering off.

Ms. Oxton kept warming up tortillas so he took his turn next, tasting the mixture in the slow cooker before he made enough to fill him up and decided that he didn't like it. Much like the eggs though, the questionable-looking food was deceptively delicious. He repeated the way McCree had filled and rolled his tortillas, minus the cheese of course, before he left Ms. Oxton to the rest.

McCree sat with Ms. Oxton and Lúcio, while Hanzo sat in his usual spot away from them. Hana hadn't shown up. McCree had tried to invite him over, told him he didn't have to sit over here if he didn't want to but Hanzo wasn't sure he wanted to push his luck and sit with them. He was still certain that McCree only tolerated him, albeit more civilly than he used to. No, he was fine over here, content to watch the two of them laugh and joke while he ate his lunch.

McCree was noticeably more at ease around Ms. Oxton than the others, perhaps because she didn't get upset when he snapped and didn't push when the conversation shifted to something he preferred not to talk about.

They weren't so different in that regard, he supposed. The difference was that Hanzo made no attempts to be charming and pleasant if he didn't want to interact. He either ignored them or changed the subject. Sometimes he had wondered why McCree forced his smiles and why no one seemed to notice, but given what the cowboy had told Ena's father, he supposed it made more sense.

He didn't stay long once he'd finished his food, thanking McCree for the food as he passed and received a beaming grin in return. A sincere one at that, judging by the crow's feet that appeared at the corner of both eyes. He supposed, when McCree acted like that, Genji's claims of the 'charming cowboy' made a lot more sense.

Later that evening, as he was sitting outside in the cove with the Bastion, he heard the sound of a carrier arriving, but didn't remember theirs leaving to pick up the Russia team. Frowning, he hurried up the cliffside just in case they were under attack, only to stop when he saw Reinhardt trudging along with Ms. Oxton walking backwards in front of him. Trailing behind them was Brigitte, her father, Dr. Zeigler and a tall, muscular woman with short-cropped pink hair that he only vaguely recognized. Her face was familiar but her name escaped him.

“All Agents report to conference room.”

Well, he'd find out soon.

McCree was already in the room when he arrived, shoulders set in what was becoming a familiar expression of uneasiness. The Russia team was also there, along with Ms. Oxton. Hana filtered in with a yawn, quickly answering a nagging question at the back of his mind that wondered where she'd been at lunch. She sat next to Lúcio, who was between her and McCree and patted the seat next to her. Ms. Oxton was near the front, next to Dr. Zeigler, with the rest of the Russian team. The naggingly familiar woman from earlier was up front with Winston, standing in a military parade rest.

“Is everyone here?”

“All ‘cept Bastion.” McCree drawled, and Hanzo began to wonder if he was vocal in meetings out of habit. He, as well as the group in Colorado had mentioned that he had been Reyes’ right hand man, and a team lead for quite a while.

“Bastion?” The woman questioned, tensing.

“We have a Bastion unit on base. 's long as ya don't startle 'em, they're sweet. They'll prolly give ya flowers.”

“No one mentioned an omnic.” She spat.

“Our apologies.” Winston said, holding up his hands. “We do have an omnic on base that no longer follows its war programming. However, it is old and has what can only be described as PTSD.”

She scoffed at the idea and out of the corner of his eye, he saw McCree tense.

Winston cleared his throat, “As long as no one makes any loud noises around it, Bastion is harmless--”

“They don't spend much time on base anyway.” McCree was quick to add with a tone of strained politeness, “They head down the cliffside to the beach t’ look for shells or pick flowers. You'll only see 'em early mornin’ or late in the evenin’. Hell, they're probably there now.”

“It was when I left there to come here.” Hanzo agreed.

She didn't look pleased, but seemed to give up. “Fine. I have worked with an omnic before. I can do it again for the good of Russia.”

“Good,” Winston continued, “This is Sergeant Aleksandra Zaryanova. We responded to a request for aid from Volskaya Industries and in response, they sent Sergeant Zaryanova to aid us. Talon attacked Volskaya, sending Reaper, Widowmaker, and a hacker named Sombra to assassinate Katya Volskaya several weeks ago.”

McCree grimaced.

“They failed, but not before Sombra had time to speak with Chairwoman Volskaya. Ms. Zaryanova went searching for this her and discovered that her real name is--”

“Olivia Colomar.” McCree sighed, finishing Winston's sentence with him, “I’m familiar with her too.”

Everyone turned to look at him, some curious and more than a few suspicious.

“I ain't in contact with her anymore before y'all go givin’ me dirty looks. Sombra was…” He hummed, running a hand through his hair, “She kept me a few steps ahead of everything. Didn't know she was in with Talon though. Not til recently. Dropped contact before I got here, when Max stalled me in Santa Fe. She tried t’ warn me… but she's also the one that contacted Genji.” The cowboy shrugged, “It's all a game to her. All drama. Always is. Wouldn't be surprised if she's playin’ Talon too.”

“She is.” Sergeant Zaryanova confirmed. “She obstructed the attempt on Chairwoman Volskaya's life in search of… a friend. She wants power.”

“People do dangerous and terrible things for power…” Dr. Zeigler mused and Hanzo couldn't help but think that was a jab at him.

“People do dangerous and terrible things for  _ a lot _ of reasons, Doc. Ain't all of them bad people for it.”

“Of course not!” She backpedaled quickly.

Hanzo couldn't help but wonder who McCree was defending with that statement.

“Talon attacked again recently, in a similar manner as Sabinas and Aguhta, but less severe.”

“They also had most of a team there.” McCree pointed out, “It could have been just as severe and they'd have come out in better shape.”

“What happened in Sabinas?” Reinhardt looked concerned.

“What didn't is a better question.” Hana groaned.

“Talon made vampirism airborne and spread it over Sabinas and Aguhta.” Hanzo frowned, “Both towns turned.”

The resulting intake of breath was enough that Hanzo swore that the oxygen had been drained from the room.

“There were only the three of you…” Reinhardt pointed out skeptically.

“Yeah, man. I had to call Jesse when we realized what was up.”

“And y'all know I'm better on the ground, so I called Max… Max called Ena 'n Company. Ena has a kid! Can y'all believe that? Motherfucker settled down, got hitched 'n had a kid. Pretty stand-up dad too on top of it all.”

Hanzo glanced over at McCree, who had adopted a somewhat fond tone towards the end and then turned back to the others.

“Wait.” Torbjorn narrowed his eyes, “I thought you weren't allowed to know mission details.”

“I wasn't. Winston lifted that so I could help him with intel to help him prevent another Mexico.”

The scientist shuffled unhappily at the reminder, and then cleared his throat. “Yes, ah-- McCree will be verifying my research before anyone goes on any missions, at least until the next full moon comes around.”

No one seemed to argue the point, whether out of respect or faith in the cowboy's ability to do his job properly, Hanzo wasn't sure, but he had see McCree tense only slightly when Torbjorn brought it up and then relax when no one protested.

“Speaking of, I need anythin’ Talon-related y'all found in Russia. Faster we can figure out where they're gonna hit next, the faster we can stop them from causin’ any other tragedies.”

There was that tone again. It had to be habit or training.

“They're out t’ make profit, so they're gonna keep testin' that airborne vampirism shit until it's only changin’ enough to cause fear 'n make people pay up but until they get it right, it'll be wrong and more towns will get turned.”

“Disgusting.” Dr. Zeigler spat quietly.

“That’s Talon for ya. They’re like roaches. Get int’ everywhere and spoil anythin’ they touch. Though, at this point I’m thinkin’ that’s an insult t’ the roaches. Least they got the decency t’ die.”   
  
Brigitte gave a soft snort.

The meeting slowly devolved into chatter and sharing stories about Talon. Most of the stories came from McCree, who seemed to be in a better mood. He grinned and spoke with his hands, expressively spinning out tale after tale. It was no wonder everyone begged him to tell stories. Though they all seemed embellished, they never focused on the cowboy himself. Rather, it was as if McCree was a reporter, weaving fact with fiction but never truly there. Yet, it all stayed just this side of believable. Too varied to be rehearsed, and too similar to not have at least some truth to it.

The others began to bleed out of the room as rumbling stomachs called them to the kitchen, some expressing a great interest in the food McCree had made earlier. Hanzo eventually followed Hana out, but rather than head for the cafeteria like the rest of them, he returned to his room to wind down for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	30. Chapter 30

Jesse sprawled out across the sand, puffing gently on one of the cigars Hanzo had given him. He figured someone had to have told the archer what particular brand he preferred, because if not, it was one hell of a guess. Not that he minded. 

It was kind of strange though. Ever since Mexico, no. It had to have been ever since they got back from Ena's, over a week ago now, Hanzo had been easier to be around. Hell, most of the time he was downright pleasant. It certainly wasn't an unwelcome change, and Jesse was sure that Genji would be pleased as punch when he found out. 

Unfortunately, while he and Hanzo were on better terms, Lúcio was mad at him now. The conversation with Hanzo had gotten him thinking, and he'd gone to Lúcio to tell him about the Vishkar agent that had contacted them. It had gone about as well as he expected, if not worse. He'd tried talking to Winston about it, but all that had accomplished was getting Lucio mad at both of them. He didn’t blame the kid, but he couldn’t get the full story if Lúcio wouldn’t talk to him.

He sighed out a stream of smoke, closing his eyes as he tried to figure out how to talk to the siren. If Ms. Vaswani would potentially cause them to lose Lúcio, he’d rather keep Lúcio. He could trust Lúcio and medics were always infinitely more valuable. What little he’d managed to talk to her, borrowing Spectre and Max’s old voice changer just in case, she had seemed rather upset about what had happened in Brazil. He took another drag and breathed out. Genji couldn't help him, he was in Nepal and he didn't think Hanzo and Lúcio were close enough to ask the archer for help.

He flicked the ash from the end of his cigar, sighed, and then grabbed his shirt and dusted off. His only real option was either Hanzo… or Ms. Song, and of the two, he'd rather ask Hanzo. He made a face as he stretched his shoulders and scratched up and down his spine. He didn't have much longer until the full moon but his back was already starting to tingle. He groaned as he finally got the right spot and sighed.  Back to the task at hand. The problem was that it was late afternoon and Jesse had no idea where Hanzo was this time of the day. Early morning was training until at least lunch, after lunch? Jesse had no idea. He could try to catch him on the way to dinner.

As he shrugged his shirt back on, he stubbed the cigar out on his left hand, tucking what remained away so that he could toss it somewhere more appropriate than the beach.  He didn't quite make it back up to find Hanzo. On his way up the path, he ran into Lúcio and Ms. Song. 

“Oh great.” Ms. Song groaned, snapping her gum, “You go on ahead, Lu.”

_ 'I've got something to say,’  _ went unspoken but Jesse knew that tone.

Lúcio frowned at them both for a moment and then hopped off the path and skated down the side of the cliff.

“You're an asshole.”

_ 'There it is.’ _ “You wouldn't be the first t’ say as much.”

She groaned and him and pursed her lips, opening her mouth a few times before finding the words, “So you and Winston are just going to let one of the people who was responsible for what happened in Lu's hometown--” 

“Ain't what we said.” 

“You didn't have to say it!” She snapped.

Jesse winced, “Yer, probably right, but ya know what I also didn't get to say? I'd rather have Lúcio watchin’ my back than a Vishkar architech anyday. Maybe sayin’ that after talkin’ to her, I felt she deserved a chance wasn't my best choice of words, but if I can give Genji's brother another shot, I can give her one.”

“A chance to what? Finish what she started?”

“She wasn't responsible for the explosion, Ms. Song. Her boss was, and she didn't like the outcome. It wasn't the goal she thought she was fighting for.” Jesse kept his tone as calm as he could, but the empathy still bled in, “I've been there. I know how that feels, and I know the anger that she's got going through her head. She's leavin’ Vishkar because of what happened in Brazil.”

Ms. Song faltered for a moment.

“Winston and I aren't judge, jury and executioner. Hell, I'm just the guy checkin’ backgrounds. Get Lúcio to come to the meeting. It's not a done deal 'til everyone decides one way or the other. Y'all will see everythin’ I found, and I'm playin’ back the conversations I had with her.”

“Was talking to her really a good idea? I mean,” she gestured at him.

“I borrowed some of Max's old tech. Voice changer 'n some other stuff. No definite location, no hints that it was me talkin’ to her… few other things but those two are the most important.”

She opened her mouth a few times before finally sighing and grumbling, “I'll talk to him.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I'm not doing it for  _ you.” _

“Didn't think you were.”

She huffed and he stepped to the side so she could pass him by. Wasn't exactly who he'd hoped to talk to, but hopefully Lúcio would come to the meeting anyway. They needed everyone’s opinion on this. No more bringing in people that seemed okay but weren’t. No more letting people slip in and letting them cause problems.

\---

The meeting came after dinner and, to Jesse's surprise, Lúcio was there. Unhappily so, judging by the expression on his face, but he was there. He wasn’t sure what Ms. Song had said, but it had worked and that was all he’d asked for.  “Right, so.” Jesse looked up over the data pad controlling the holoscreen behind him, “Right after the events in Mexico, Winston waived part of my probation so I could help him with intel on missions and set me on checkin’ the background on a new potential member.”

He flicked the data onto the screen, bringing up Ms. Vaswani's face. “Her name is Satya Vaswani. Age 28. Currently one of Vishkar's top architechs codenamed Symmetra. She's one of their secret operatives  _ but _ she's attempting to defect--”

“Why would a Vishkar architech defect?” Torbjorn narrowed his good eye. “Smells fishy.”

“That's what I thought when I read the file.”

“You obviously don't anymore, or we wouldn't be having this meeting,” Angela pointed out.

“Right.” Jesse nodded, “I spent the better part of a week lookin' into her background, checkin’ everythin’ she's ever done and seein’ if anythin’ looked… covered up or screwy.” He flicked to the next bit of information. “She's from a poor family in Hyderabad and got snatched up by Vishkar after the Crisis ended. From what I could tell, she was old enough to remember Hyderabad, but still real young when she entered the Architech Academy.”

He ignored the few frowns in favor of continuing, “Everything else between then and now was straightforward, well-documented actually if you knew what to look for, but nothin’ of much significance up until now. Y'all can read over that if y'all want before y'all decide, Winston wants everyone to take a full day  _ at least _ to look over the files and think on their answers. For the sake of the meeting though, the more important part is Rio.” He sighed heavily, “It ain't no secret that Vishkar went into Rio tryin’ to push their brand of utopia on the favelas. Lúcio knows this firsthand.”

“They didn't just 'push’ into the favelas, man! They  _ burned them! _ ”

Jesse frowned, “I know. I ain't arguin’ for Vishkar, they're about as shady as Talon if ya ask me, but at least hear me out on Ms. Vaswani.”

Lúcio didn't look happy to let him continue but quieted down for the time being.

“Miss Vaswani was present in Rio, along with one of Vishkar's negotiators, Sanjay Korpal who, quite frankly, gives me a bad feeling in all the worst ways but we'll get back to him. On the topic of Miss Vaswani, her worst offenses are corporate espionage and blackmail. In every mission she's ever been on to protect Vishkar's ‘interests’, she's never killed anyone. Looked into other architechs with the same weapon she has, and it's capable of killin’.  _ Very _ capable, actually, and it ain't a pleasant way to go from what I could pull.” Microwaved alive seemed pretty damn horrid but that seemed less important to the topic at hand.

“None of the people she's attacked come out with lasting injuries and she only seems to do so if given no choice, which leads us back to Rio. When the mayor refused Vishkar, Ms. Vaswani was instructed to try to find something to blackmail Calado, and found nothing. She almost got caught, but she didn't kill those guards either.”

He pulled up an audio file Max had secured for him, “She incapacitated them.”

_ “Hey!” _ A man's voice yelled, far away and distorted slightly. Gunfire erupted from the recording, followed by a groan.

_ “Energy drain? Why not terminate them?” _

_ “You know I don't kill if I don't have to. I'll be gone before they wake up.” _

There was more groaning and an electrical hum, then silence.

_ “Sanjay? I'm afraid there's not enough on Calado. Perhaps we can get to the mayor instead, find something on her.” _

Lúcio growled, narrowing his eyes and gripping the table.

_ “That is disappointing, but so be it.” _

An explosion distorted through the speaker followed by a horrified gasp, “ _ What? There were men inside.” _

_ “Whatever do you mean?” _

Jesse bit his lip and restrained the urge to stop the playback there. A person's first reaction to an event spoke volumes about them.

_ “My gods.” _

_ “Calado won't stand in the way of the good we will do in this city.” _

_ “Not Calado! The favela!” _

The recording rustled and thumped and screams of terror grew louder.

_ “Rosa! Meu bebé!” _

There was more electrical humming and the roar of flames before Ms. Vaswani spoke again,  _ “I have you-- You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you.” _

_ “Aayyy! Meu doce anjo…” _

Jesse paused the playback, “Ms. Vaswani ran into the favela after her boss decided to blow up Calado's building and saved several lives, the first of which being a young girl.”

Lúcio frowned, but it was conflicted now. Jesse wished he didn't have to do this to the kid. If her hard light capabilities weren't so promising, so very god damn useful, and if she hadn't been so damn  _passionate_ when he'd talked to her, Jesse wouldn't have even told Winston he thought they should put it to vote.

“Now, I looked into Sanjay, and he doesn't have a whole lot on him. A suspicious lack of shit on him, given his…” Jesse gestured at at the holoscreen with a pursed lips and a disapproving grunt. “Think we oughta keep an eye on 'im.  But that's not what this meeting is about…” He pulled up the recordings of their conversations, moving them into order and tapping the first to let it load. “I spoke to Ms. Vaswani t’ find out her opinions on some things as well as explain how things… generally work around here.”

_ “Hello? This is Satya Vaswani. Who am I speaking with?” _

The words were automatic, almost rehearsed in the way they were so evenly pleasant.   
  


_ “Ms. Vaswani! Pleasure to speak with you. I'm calling on behalf of Dr. Winston.”  _ Even though he had the voice changer active and had been enunciating, he could still hear traces of his own voice in the recording. The voice changer itself wasn't obvious, not like it had been back several decades ago. It had pitched him up to a pleasant, faintly southern tenor but even so, his voice sounded strange to him.

_ “Ah! Let me…”  _  There was rustling and silence then the sound of a door opening and closing. _ “What can I help you with, Mr…?” _

_ “Braeburn. Elijah Braeburn. Just call me Eli.” _

_ “I would rather not, Mr. Braeburn.” _

Across the room, Ms. Song raised her eyebrows and then narrowed her eyes at him. He didn't even know what that look was about. At this point, he'd given up. If she wanted to find reasons to dislike him, that was her deal. He couldn't endanger them by admitting his name to what could amount to a very dangerous stranger.

_ “Not a problem, Ms. Vaswani. I was calling to find out if you were still seeking aid?” _

_ “I…”  _ A hesitant shuffle and silence, then lower,  _ “Yes.” _

_ “Alright. Given the circumstances, I don't think 'great’ is the appropriate sentiment, but we'll certainly do all we can. First though, for the safety of the members already involved, I do need to ask some questions.” _

_ “I already told Dr. Winston everything--” _

_ “Ms. Vaswani, please. This isn't about your history with Vishkar. However, given that Overwatch is not legally sanctioned, revealing its current base of operations is at best, risky. The questions are only to ensure you'd be a good fit for the team. If not, we can help you out of Vishkar without bringing you on-base.” _

_ “So it is about my history with Vishkar.” _

Jesse remembered how that one had stopped him. Technically, in the basest sense, it was.

_ “We have done the same to returning Blackwatch members. Given that Dr. Winston does not want to make the same mistakes of the past, it's just a precaution.” _

_ “Very well. Continue.” _

There was silence for a moment.

_ “Why Overwatch?” _

_ “I'm sorry?” _

_ “Why did you choose Overwatch?” _

_ “I don't agree with Vishkar 'fixing’ the chaos it has caused. I still think the people in the favelas of Río need better. More order, but not like this. Not through Vishkar and Sanjay.” _

_ “I see, and Overwatch?” _

_ “Overwatch has never created its own chaos to fix.” _

_ “Some would argue with you on that. Namely members of Blackwatch.” _

_ “Ah, yes. Venice, correct? _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “From what I have read, it is different. I still am not sure I agree with the actions of those involved, but I understand the reasoning.” _

Jesse hummed in acknowledgment on the recording,  _ “Well Ms. Vaswani, to be frank with you, this isn't the Overwatch anyone remembers. We're a skeleton crew that don't even begin to fill a base and funding comes out of the pockets of the agents. Most of us have enough to keep food on the table, but our pockets are only so deep. By joining us, you will directly violate the Petras Act and become a internationally wanted fugitive. The crew we have left is from everywhere, from all walks of life and not all of us are human. We don't always agree. We don't always know that this is worth it, but we're doing it anyway because the world needs someone.”  _

He'd been trying to shake her, but it had been for himself too. He was thinking out loud, saying things he needed to hear too.

To her credit, she had barely hesitated,  _ “If one person can make a change, it is worth it. An island of order in a sea of chaos is still order. If no one fights the chaos, it will win.  Sanjay will win. There will be more senseless violence, more favelas and more people will get hurt. I--” _ She paused, shuffling over the line.  _ “I can stop it; I  _ must  _ stop it.” _

As the conversation wore on and Jesse played back the other calls, he kept an eye on Lúcio. Ever since Jesse had started playing back the audio files, the DJ's expression had shifted to a conflicted one and seemed unlikely to change anytime soon.

When the last conversation came to an end, cut short by a call from Sanjay, Jesse paused the playback.

“I say we give her a chance,” Brigitte said quietly, looking to Reinhardt and Torbjorn as if searching for approval.   
  


“Read over the dossier,” Jesse reminded. “Don't rush your decision.”

“I don't need to,” she argued back, setting her jaw stubbornly.

“You  _ do _ need to.”

“Why? Cause you  _ worked hard _ on it?”

“Brigitte,” Reinhardt chastised.

Jesse bowed his head and sighed, biting his inner cheek and willing himself to be patient. It was starting to get close to the next full moon and while his tone was level, he kept his eyes down at the table. God, was this how Reyes felt when he was an absolute shithead? “Because there's more on the dossier that you all need to know before she gets here. I covered the most important parts but there's more.”

“Fine,” Brigitte huffed, “But I doubt it'll change my mind.”

“And that's fine, but rushin’ people in is what got us in trouble in Blackwatch. Just makin’ sure that it don't happen again.”

“Which is good,” Winston assured. “We need to minimize the risk of being infiltrated again.”

“Right.” Lucio agreed, “I don’t like the idea of working with someone from Vishkar, so you bet I’m gonna look into her more, but if she’s solid man… I’m not going to say we don’t need the help.”

“She seems very passionate about stopping what Vishkar is doing,” Ms. Zaryanova pointed out, “I do not believe she would betray us.”   
  
“Well, in any case, we’ll meet back up once everyone is ready to decide so no rush. As far as I know, she ain't quite able to get out yet anyway. I'll keep in touch with her, so if y'all got questions, let me know.”

“Thank you, McCree.” Winston nodded and then straightened his glasses, “If no one has any further questions or concerns, everyone is free to go.”

“Alright! Dinnertime!” Brigitte cheered as she made a beeline for the door. “Come on, Reinhardt!”

Jesse waited until everyone else had left to turn to Winston, leaning forward on the table, “That was… easier than I thought it would be.”

“You presented a convincing argument for her.”

“Well, I tried,” Jesse smiled. “Thanks, big guy. I'm gonna head down and see if they need help with dinner. I'll keep ya updated on Ms. Vaswani.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo boy, this chapter's running a little bit later than I meant to upload it because I just started a new job this week and it's a good chunk of overtime. On the plus side, my money woes will evaporate as of next Friday :D


	31. Chapter 31

There were few things that startled Hanzo, and most of them belonged on a list of terrible, but undeniably related things, generally having to do with his brother being alive. However, walking into the common room to enjoy his morning tea and finding a werewolf sprawled across the floor on its back certainly did almost join them.

He froze before reminding himself that the wolf was McCree and wondering if the cowboy could also hear his heart pounding in his ears. Likely not, given the soft snoring.  He took a step back to leave, not wanting to wake a sleeping werewolf. Especially one that was undoubtedly one of the most dangerous people on base, second only to Hanzo himself.

A second step back trashed that hope in an instant. The snoring stopped abruptly and gold glowing eyes snapped open to watch him. Hanzo couldn't imagine he cut a particularly threatening figure. He'd deviated from his usual routine to have his tea first and relax in his pajamas. As early as it was, he'd assumed that no one would be up to see him sit in the common room with his tea and catch up on novels he'd bought years ago and never read.

McCree seemed to decide the same, relaxing after a moment and then yawning. His tongue lolled, curling up as animal tongues usually did in a yawn. Like this, it was hard to see a werewolf as a gluttonous monster. Hanzo couldn't help but wonder if humans could see werewolves like this, if they'd change their minds or if they'd find the ones like McCree too uncanny. The curiosity only intensified as McCree stretched, closing his eyes and scratched his chest lazily. “Mornin’. Guess Athena wasn't kiddin’,” He said as he rolled into his stomach, “You do get up early.”

“Why are you--”

“In here?” 

“A wolf.”

McCree gave a hum of acknowledgment, “I get less ornery the more I stay like this 'round a full moon. Otherwise, the urge just drives me up a wall.”

“The urge to… what?” Hanzo didn't think he meant mauling, but McCree was a werewolf and he had to make sure.

“You know, shift. Run wild. Maybe chase a squirrel or…” McCree ducked his head and mumbled the next part bashfully, “Scare some kids on Halloween.”

“You didn't.” Hanzo wasn't sure whether to be exasperated or worried for the children. If McCree went around scaring kids for kicks around Halloween--

“Not on purpose! Was out in the woods, some kids were camping and roaming around at night like there ain't shit out there that'd love t’ have 'em for dinner. They stumbled on me while I was sleepin’. Scared the shit out of all of us.”

Hanzo settled on one of the couches with a snort. Now, some morbid and horrible part of him that likely stemmed from being a hunter for too long hoped that McCree had scared them properly. “What happened?”

“Nothin’ much. They took off in one direction and I went the other way.”

Well, that was boring. Would have served them right. When would people learn that just because Overwatch had made the world  _ safer _ , it didn't mean that it was  _ safe _ ?  Hanzo took a sip of his tea, shaking his head disapprovingly at the thought, then looked down and almost felt embarrassed for not offering the cowboy anything. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Aw, no thank you. It’s a pain in the ass t’ drink anythin’ hot like this.”

“I'm sure I could find a bowl.”

McCree side-eyed him, “That sounds suspiciously like someone who wants some chewed up shoes.”

Hanzo looked down at his legs, and then raised an eyebrow, “I didn't realize you enjoyed broken teeth. You should consider seeing Dr. Zeigler about that.”

McCree chuckled and then settled his head on his huge paw-like hands, “There’s lots of things I oughta consider seeing Doc about.”

Hanzo opened his mouth, looked McCree up and down, and then snorted, “Good point.”

They fell silent for a while and if not for the occasional twitch of McCree’s nose or ears, Hanzo would have thought the cowboy had gone back to sleep. He finally opened up his tablet and brought up the first novel. After rereading the first three paragraphs several times and making no more sense of them than the first time he read them, he set the tablet back down in his lap and took a long deep drink from his cooling tea.

His thoughts were elsewhere, as they usually were this time of the morning. He’d come here to make amends with his brother but, to absolutely no one's surprise, Genji had run off and not made any contact since. Honestly, if that wasn't undeniable proof the cyborg was in fact his brother, Hanzo didn't know what was. Despite everything, even his training in Nepal, Genji still fluttered about like a little bird. Hanzo shook his head and took another drink of his tea, disturbing McCree in the process. One of the wolf’s ears swiveled to face him, flicked and then went back to facing forward.

Years ago, Hanzo would have been angry with his brother for bringing him here and then leaving, after all, he’d only come because Genji was here. Years ago, Hanzo would have left when Genji ran off but now? His mouth pulled to one side. What had changed? Why was he still here? Most of the team only tolerated his presence. Was it Hana? No, he’d only recently started enjoying her company. His gaze shifted back to McCree. It had to be him, then. Up until recently, he’d been convinced that the man was dangerous, and even now, he had his doubts. Not about McCree himself, but according to Dr. Zeigler’s notes on her serums, werewolves were still known to be temperamental at best.

He had to wonder if McCree being transformed like this was safe for the others. Sure, he seemed fine. Docile, even… “Is this safe?”

“Huh?” McCree’s eyes snapped open. “Is wha-- me,” He sighed, tone turning quickly to one of disappointment, “You mean me.”

“According to Dr. Zeigler’s notes, there is a slight chance for a werewolf to--”

“I know what her notes say. Believe me. I know.” The wolf’s tone had turned bitter.

“I am not suggesting you would consciously hurt your friends.”

“Naw, but somehow,” McCree’s eyes narrowed, “Suggesting I’m a timebomb and might lose my mind and come to with my friends slaughtered around me ain’t much better.”

Hanzo opened his mouth and closed it. “You are right. I apologize. I should... think about what I am saying before I say it.”

“It's fine. Least I'm not the only one on base that regularly makes a habit of eating his own foot.”

Hanzo looked down at his feet, then back up and let a rare smile curl up on his lips, “You still have your feet so it can't be too regularly,” His eyes wandered to the prosthetic arm, “unless you are confused which part of your body is your foot.”

McCree sputtered, mouth agape as the words visibly processed on his face, shifting from surprise to dawning realization and then amusement. Hanzo hadn't expected the cowboy to literally howl with laughter though. It cut off about as soon as it started, paw-like hands clapped over his mouth. The laugh continued as breathy huffs as McCree stared at the door with wide eyes, not unlike a child waiting to be caught raiding the cookie jar.

When no one immediately came running, McCree seemed to settle but the laughter remained in his eyes long after he'd fallen silent. 

Hanzo returned to his tablet, hoping to be able to focus this time. He barely got through the first paragraph when McCree spoke again.

“To tell you the truth? I don't know…”

Hanzo looked up, one eyebrow raising curiously.

“I've never been dangerous around people before, like those kids but I dunno how I’ll react around hunters. This is as much of a learnin’ experience for me as it is for everyone else.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at McCree as soon as the last sentence came out, “You are willing to risk those around you to find out whether or not you’ll attack someone.”   
  
“Not really, but I don’t see any other choice. I either spend most of today like this and run the risk on a base filled with hunters where Athena can initiate a lockdown, or I change tonight, everythin’ goes fine because there’s no people and I pass probation only to kill someone on a mission.”

As terrible of a plan as it seemed, he supposed McCree had a point.

“Besides, if I’m on base, I know I can trust you to put me down before I hurt anyone.”

The words gave Hanzo pause, hitting something bittersweet and as he opened his mouth to assure McCree that he wouldn’t let him hurt anyone, he realized what he was agreeing to. His mouth snapped shut with an audible  _ click _ . He had thought that they were past this, and after everything that the cowboy had said in Colorado, he had started to empathize with him. Lonely in a crowd with a past full of regrets that they wanted nothing more than to erase from everyone’s minds, including their own. Apparently, McCree was still an insufferable asshole though.

The wolf ducked his head with a whine, and the expression reminded him of Genji when he knew he’d fucked up but didn’t seem to understand how or why. Hanzo huffed and returned to his tablet. No. He would not give into that. Genji always pulled that face and then never learned a thing when Hanzo scolded him. He was not going to give McCree the satisfaction.

McCree shuffled, scooting away and putting his head back down. “Sorry, guess I hit a nerve or somethin’. Didn’t mean to… I just figure you’d put the team first, y’know?”

_ ‘Just like Genji. Eugh. Boo hoo, I didn’t think about what I was saying and now you’re mad, poor pitiful me.’  _ Hanzo raised the tablet and returned to his reading, or at least tried. He still wasn’t exactly retaining anything he was reading but as far as he was concerned, McCree could sit over there and whine and sulk all he wanted. However, McCree didn’t push the subject further, unlike Genji, who had constantly whined and bitched until Hanzo couldn’t take anymore and usually gave in. The cowboy had retreated to a far portion of the room, almost out of sight. Right now, he wasn’t sure which was worse. 

He stopped letting it bother him when McCree started snoring again and was finally able to not only read more than a few paragraphs, but actually lose himself in the words. The story was somewhere between a horror and a mystery and had caught his eye ages ago. Of course, he could no longer have the satisfaction of saying that he’d solved it first, since it was now old enough that no one even bothered putting spoiler tags on conversations about the characters, but he’d been lucky enough to avoid anything serious.

A scream ripped him back to reality, shortly echoed by a yelp. Hanzo startled, his tea sloshing onto his knee as his attention immediately went back to McCree, who had scrambled to his feet and was staring at the door. Hanzo looked back for a moment to see Brigitte standing there. Someone else was running toward them as well, likely Reinhardt, if the heaviness was anything to judge by.

He turned his attention back to McCree, uncomfortable with the way the wolf’s eyes were fixated on Brigitte. He tensed, setting his tablet and tea aside in case he had to intervene. McCree moved first, backing up slowly with his head down and flinching when Reinhardt appeared.

“What is going on?”

“There’s a werewolf--”

“It’s just Jesse,” Reinhardt reminded, “He told you he was one.”

“He didn’t say he was just going to--” She gestured at McCree.

The cowboy had put more space between himself and all of them, eyes wide with a ring of white showing beyond the glowing amber. 

“Back up, give him space.” Hanzo cautioned. He knew that look. If they pushed too far, McCree might lash out.

“Why is he a werewolf?!”

“He got bit.” He deadpanned at her, even if internally, he was amused at his own joke.

“That’s not what I meant.” She retorted, mirroring his expression.

In the corner, there was a soft sound that resembled a laugh.

“Jesse?” Reinhardt took a step forward.

McCree whimpered, ears pinning back as Reinhardt took another step.

“I mean it. Give him space. He was asleep before you got here.” He turned his attention to Brigitte, “You startled him when you screamed.”   


“Why is he,” Brigitte gestured at McCree again and his eyes followed.

“Sometimes it is more comfortable to not remain in a human form.”

One ear flicked toward him, eyes narrowing a little. Hanzo cursed internally that he'd slipped a little, but the other two hadn't seemed to notice.

“It's not the full moon yet.” Reinhardt pointed out.

“Don't hafta be.” McCree finally said, head raised momentarily until Brigitte screamed again.

The wolf's head went right back down, eyes closing and ears turning back again, “Please…” The word was garbled, more growled than spoken. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, “Please don't do that.” This time it was more normal-sounding, or as much as it could be.

“You speak!”

“Woof. I can also sit, play dead and roll over. If yer real lucky I might fetch.”

Hanzo's hand flew to his mouth as McCree deadpanned at Brigitte, words dripping with sarcasm.

Brigitte pursed her lips for a moment and then began to laugh, “Shut up!”

“Haven't learned that one yet, sorry.”

Hanzo suddenly realized that there was another set of footsteps coming closer at a jog. Heavy footsteps. 

Their newest member appearing in the doorway, looking prepared to fight but settled when Reinhardt shook his head, “Everything is fine. Brigitte just startled Jesse.”

“Ah.” She nodded, giving McCree a once-over and then relaxed and settled in one of the chairs. “So it is that time, then?”

“Well, not quite. Tonight, but can't really know if I'm dangerous if everyone's asleep.”

“So, you're just going to sit around as a wolf and hope you don't maul someone all day?”

“Would you rather me assume, pass probation and then maul a bunch of civilians on a mission? Me neither. I'm one werewolf on a base full of hunters and more silver than West Point. If ya want someone t’ blame for me bein’ here, ya can march right on out t’ Nepal and talk t’ Genji.”

_ Genji. _ Even though his brother hadn’t contacted them since going to Nepal, Hanzo found himself missing his brother, no matter how much he'd been telling himself that he didn't. While the others pestered McCree with questions about being a werewolf, and for good reason since it wasn't often that hunters could learn without getting mauled, Hanzo scrolled through his comm and opened the messaging app to contact Genji.

 

> Genji. Please call me when you receive this.
> 
> Sent 05:03 (UTC +2)
> 
>  

He stared at the comm for a moment, waiting for a response before setting it down. Perhaps they were busy. After all, it would be mid morning there. It wasn't unlikely that they would be eating breakfast, or in morning meditation.

He turned his attention back to McCree and the others. Brigitte had settled in one of the armchairs with McCree at her feet, nudging him playfully and giggling when he nudged back. Reinhardt had left the room, likely to go make breakfast. Ms. Zaryano-- no,  _ Zarya _ , she requested that they all call her Zarya, he reminded himself, seemed mildly curious. She had mentioned being a werebear and Hanzo was frankly more curious about her than McCree. It would be rude to ask so many personal questions though.

At some point, the two women got up and left, chattering amicably about working out and playful challenges to sparring matches. A sparring match sounded great honestly, but without Genji here, he wasn't sure that anyone could match him. McCree, maybe, but he wasn't sure that the cowboy would agree in this state. Zarya was powerful, but lacked in nimbleness. Brigitte was nimble and powerful, but still young. She needed more training.

“Ya look bored.” McCree rumbled at him, “Thought you'd be in a training room by now.”

“Normally, yes.”

“But…?”

“I can't ensure you won't hurt anyone from across the base.”

“Well shit, coulda said somethin’. I'm capable of gettin’ up and movin.”

“I would have thought it was too early for you,” Hanzo snorted.

“It is, but it's probably in everyone's best interests if no one else sees me before breakfast. It's definitely too early t’ go tellin’ Ange why she's removin’ a friendly fire bullet from me.”

Hanzo snorted, “Perhaps you should have considered that first.”

“Ya know what? I don't claim t’ make the best decisions after drinking.”

Hanzo opened his mouth to retort but found that nothing sharp came to mind. He was in no place to judge decisions made while drunk. Instead, he just shook his head and then rose. “I will meet you in Range 4 then. Do not get shot on your way there.”

“Keep mouthin’ off and I'll be down there waitin’ t’ out-shoot ya.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.” McCree stared at him with a lopsided grin not unlike the one he wore normally. “Might be good for me t’ get used to goin’ back and forth anyway. See ya at the range, Shimada.”

 

\---

 

Hanzo arrived first, not that he was surprised. The only time he'd ever seen McCree hurry anywhere was when they were in danger in Mexico and when Reinhardt announced breakfast, lunch or dinner.

The cowboy meandered in several minutes later, holding two plates and a mug, “Went to grab breakfast. Didn't really know what ya liked, but Reinhardt fixed ya up. Hope ya don't mind me makin’ a pitstop.”

“I suppose it can't be helped,” Hanzo teased as he held his hand out for the plate and bowing his head quickly when he received it. “Thank you.”

“Don't worry 'bout it. Figure ya didn't wanna go workin’ out on an empty stomach.”

“I am regularly awake and working out before breakfast.”

“Well, okay _fine_.  _ I  _ don't want to go workin’ out on an empty stomach.”

“You don't seem to like to do  _ anything  _ on an empty stomach.” Hanzo quipped as he took his first bite.

“I can't help that bein’ a werewolf makes me hungry.”

“Have you considered carrying snacks around rather than eating large meals?”

“Used to, back when I was in Blackwatch. Just fell out of the habit. Fell out of the habit of a lot of things.”

Hanzo's eyes flickered toward McCree's gut and then back to his food, “Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you stop?”

“Wasn't practical to carry snacks around with me, not that was it easy to get them on the run.”

“And what about the other habits?”

“Drank more, smoked less.”

“Not what I was referring to.”

“Couldn't really do much workin’ out on the run. Figured you'd understand that.”

“No?” Hanzo looked over and he was sure that McCree could see his confusion.

“Huh. Guess that explains,” McCree gestured at him. “Well, I couldn't. Wasn't really safe.”

_ ‘Not safe? How?’ _ “Surely you could have at least done some in your hotel rooms?”

“I… can't really explain it.”

“Humor me.”

McCree stared at his food for a minute, chewing slowly and thoughtfully before glancing back up, “Maybe another time.”

Hanzo frowned, squinting at the cowboy as if it would reveal something but to no avail. McCree ate slowly, as if distracted, with his hat tucked down to shield his eyes. Hanzo hated when he did that. How was he supposed to trust that the cowboy wasn't lying if he hid his eyes? After all, he'd admitted to Ena's father that he did, in fact, lie about his personality. What an infuriating man.

Hanzo set his plate aside as soon as he'd finished, rising and gathering Stormbow from beside him. He went through the motions, striking each still target in the center and only barely noticing when McCree joined him.

“We both have perfect scores on the still range, ain't no competition to be had here.”

“I am here because, much like everything else, you seemed in no hurry to finish eating.”

“Not my fault you don't wanna taste yer food.” 

“I taste my food just fine!”

McCree snorted derisively, “Could’ve fooled me.”

_ ‘Seems like a common occurrence.’ _ Hanzo raised an eyebrow but held back the jab, knowing it would probably upset McCree. “Well then, what do you propose?”

“Simulator run. We both have the same goal, but we keep each other from completing that goal. First one to finish the mission wins.”

“Neither of us have properly warmed up for such a thing and we just ate. That is a recipe for disaster.

McCree sighed heavily, “Fine. I'll have Athena set up the moving range for two people. We'll be shooting the same targets at the same time.”

Hanzo nodded. It wouldn't be much of a competition then, he could shoot around the 'civilian’ targets. This would be easy.

“We're goin’ best three of five.”

“Very well.”

“Now don't go gettin’ cocky over there.”

“Ha. Says the man too scared of defeat to set up the competition!”

“Scared? Of lil ole you?” McCree barked a laugh, “Nah.”

“You should be. I know where you sleep and can enter the room without you hearing me.”

McCree grunted, but didn't appear too perturbed otherwise. “Athena, mind settin’ the range up for me 'n Shimada here?”

“Of course. Shall I adjust it for your individual shooting styles?”

“If ya would, please, darlin’.”

“Very well. Proceed to the lanes. The simulation will begin once both of you are ready.”

Hanzo stepped forward, thankful that the lane divider would prevent McCree from distracting him.

“Might wanna put those headphones on, Peacekeeper gets loud.”

Hanzo looked down and then at the divider and then decided better of listening to the massive revolver go off over a hundred times right next to him.

“Are both of you ready?”

“You ever known me not to be?”

“Yes. There was that time that Agent Gen--”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Let's not go draggin’ the past back up.”

What about his brother? Hanzo glared at the divider and then turned back quickly, nocking an arrow as Athena began the countdown.

The targets cycled differently, using seperate tracks. The change caught Hanzo off-guard and the extra time he took to aim gave McCree enough time to takedown not only his target, but Hanzo's too. Hanzo vaguely heard the report of the gun before a voice crackled over the earpiece he hadn't known was in the headphones.

“C'mon Shimada, can't let me do all the shootin’!”

The words shook him out of the break his brain had taken, and he drew back on his bow, quickly drawing three arrows after letting the first fly to eliminate his target. He curved two of the arrows around to hit McCree's and a second ground target, then released the last into another of his.

McCree gave a low whistle of appreciation, “That's the spirit!”

The competition turned out to be one of the most exhilarating things Hanzo had done in a while. McCree shot his revolver almost as quick as his mouth, goading Hanzo whenever the cowboy managed to best him.

They remained neck-and-neck until the fifth round, when McCree chuckled darkly and shot one of his arrows out of the air, then promptly eliminated all four of the last 'enemy’ targets while Hanzo was stunned into silence.

“That makes three.”

Hanzo grimaced and whirled, clearing the distance between him and McCree and jamming his finger against the cowboy's chest, “I demand a rematch. No tricks, no  _ cheating _ .”

“Hell, I figured this made us even for New Mexico.” McCree grinned.

Hanzo narrowed his eyes. The cowboy was still holding a grudge for that? No, his eyes weren't angry. Teasing?

McCree’s grin faltered and he relented, “But you're right. That was cheap 'n I apologize. Whenever ya want that rematch, just shoot me a message on the comms. Ain't had competition like that in at least a solid decade.”

Hanzo nodded, satisfied with the apology. Though he wouldn't admit it aloud,  _ especially  _ not in front of McCree whose ego seemed insufferable anyway, the shot was frankly amazing. He walked to the broken remains of the arrow, intending to reuse the head and vanes. The head had been clipped clean off, lying completely undamaged a small ways away.

Hanzo chuckled and picked up the pieces, before turning back to McCree, who glanced away at the ground with the expression of a child scolded. Hanzo huffed and then closed his eyes. This man was ridiculous. “It’s just a competition. I will call you for the rematch when the full moon has passed. In the meantime, you can make it up by warming up for that simulator run you mentioned.”

McCree looked up at him quickly with an expression caught somewhere between amused and utterly confused and then shrugged, “Sounds good.”   
  



	32. Chapter 32

The first time the simulator glitched Jesse barely noticed, much less cared. Sure, it took an extra shot to register that the enemy had been slain, but the damn thing was old and probably hadn’t been maintained in God only knew how damn long. Hiccups were to be expected. Hanzo had promptly handed his ass to him on a silver platter without even wrinkling his clothes shortly following that. It was fine though. He was just warming up, he told himself. He’d get him next time.

He didn’t. The next hiccup conveniently caused the building he was on to phase out and then reappear after he’d hit the ground inside. He narrowed his eyes at the door and found it unlocked, but by the time he got his bearings again, Athena was announcing Hanzo’s victory. Something was beginning to smell real fishy, and he doubted it had anything to do with their proximity to the ocean.

He wrinkled his nose as the simulation changed to another location. One that had a rather large disadvantage for snipers and forced them to be closer to the ground. Without the larger vantage points, he reasoned that he’d just have to beat Hanzo in speed and knowledge of the layout. He couldn’t waste time on shifting, even if he was faster that way, so he’d just have to push himself. He was nearing the objective, grabbing the wall to swing himself around and firing up at the harpies swooping down to--

He yelped as suddenly the wall vanished and his momentum sent him crashing to the ground. The room went dark and not far away, Hanzo landed hard and rolled with a grunt of pain. The only light in the room came from Hanzo’s bow and the heels of his boots.

Jesse blinked a couple times and pushed himself up, “Guess we overloaded the sim. Damn thing’s old anyway.”

“This has never happened  _ before _ .” Hanzo spat out.   
  
“Well there wasn’t  _ two  _ of us before!” Jesse shot back with a snarl.    
  
The archer huffed, shifted his weight and then turned for the door. There was the slightest hitch in his step as he walked away. The fall must have hurt him more than he was willing to let on. Jesse sighed and followed him, ready to leave this damn room before something else went wrong.   
  
“Athena!” Hanzo barked ahead of him. The door hadn’t slid open like it should have and Jesse had a sinking feeling that the blackout wasn’t just the simulator.

“Athena, why is this door shut?”   
  
“I-- Shimada, I don’t think she can hear you.”   
  
The archer whirled, and Jesse could only barely see his eyes narrowing in an unspoken  _ ‘What did you do?!’ _

“Don't you go shootin’ me dirty looks, Shimada. My idea of fun ain’t sittin’ locked in a dark room cause the power went out,”  _ ‘With a guy I’m still not sure even likes me.’  _ He tapped on the door and then chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Weather was supposed t’ be clear today, maybe Torb got int’ something he shouldn’t have…” He leaned on the wall and then slid down it. “But the backup generators shoulda kicked on by now.”

Speaking of, why hadn’t they? Was there too much draw to kick on, or worse still, had they just not been maintained? Jesse lolled his head back, staring at the ceiling. Nah, Max wouldn’t risk that. Not if he’d been living here. Jesse pulled out his comm, which was on but a quick test message to Lena went undelivered. God Lord, had they really woven Athena so far into their shit that if she dropped they didn’t even have communication? That needed to be fixed. Max would have never let Spectre get so deep into their operations that they needed her for everything.

Spectre! Fuck, she probably had her own backup if Jesse knew Max, and boy  _ did he.  _ “Spectre, darlin’?”

_ “Yes, Jesse?” _

“Good t’ hear yer voice.” Jesse sighed as her voice came through his comm. “What happened?”

_ “The… uh… well, you happened. The generators couldn’t take the stress of the simulators and everything else on base too. I’m working on it.” _

The clatter of something metallic that he strongly suspected was a wrench made him jump.  “Whoa! Whoa! We got two engineers on base, one of which won’t try t’ fix them with the old coffeemaker.”

_ “Oh thank fuck.” _

“Can you let us out so we can go get someone?”

_ “I can try.” _

“Probably the best I can ask for right now.”

There was silence for a while, and the room was getting warmer without the power to keep the base cool.

“Well that was helpful,” Hanzo snorted.

“Don’t piss her off!” Jesse hissed quietly, “The whole base doesn’t have power, give her time!”

“Or she could make it worse.”

“She won’t make it worse, but she  _ will  _ strand our asses in the room if you don’t shut the hell up.”

The archer stormed over to him, and the dim light only made him look more furious, “So you’re going to trust an artificial intelligence to--”   
  
“Don’t you fuckin’ start. That ‘artificial intelligence’ has a fuckin’ name, for starters. Spectre has bailed my ass out of the  _ worst  _ possible situations with barely a god damn scratch which is a lot more than I can say for a lot of folks. Now, if  _ you _ want to stay here in this damn room, be my fuckin’ guest.” The door clicked and Jesse looked over at it and then back to Hanzo.  _ ‘See smartass? I told you.’ _

Hanzo grimaced and rolled his eyes before heading for the door and almost running into it before realizing that it still wasn’t opening.

Jesse stifled a snicker, assuming that Spectre was getting payback for Hanzo’s rudeness and then shoved himself up, following after Hanzo almost lazily. Upon reaching it, however, he found that it wasn’t opening for him either. “Spectre? I heard ya get the locks open, what’s up?”

Hanzo grumbled something almost unintelligible under his breath, earning another glare from Jesse.

_ “I don’t have enough power to open the door. I’m draining my batteries just to pop the lock.” _

“It’s okay darlin’, don’t stress yerself. I’ll get it. Winston might get a bit angry though… Kinda hopin’ he don’t go seein’ red, if ya catch my drift.”

_ “Fuck Winston.” _

Jesse chuckled and then pushed his hand against the door, trying to get an opening big enough to get his left hand in. If he bent it too much it wouldn’t slide on its tracks, but these doors were built heavy. They weren’t meant to be pried open. He frowned when he found nowhere to help move the doors and finally sighed and shook his head before drawing his hand back and punching into the center of the door and pulling one side open.

He glanced back to gesture for Hanzo to go through and instead caught him wide-eyed and staring. The gawking lasted for only a second after Hanzo realized he’d been caught, and the archer huffed and looked away before storming out of the room.

Jesse shook his head and then followed Hanzo out, running his fingertips along the wall, searching for one of the many panels that would lead him down into the tunnels. When his fingers caught, he patted blindly for the manual switch and then grumbled that his night vision wasn’t enough to just see the damn thing. He fumbled in his pocket for his lighter and hissed when it sparked and suddenly blinded him. Judging by the mirrored sound a little further away, he wasn’t the only one.    
  
When his vision had cleared, he squinted at the wall and then found the slight seam he’d been looking for and pressed it in, popping the panel outward and allowing him to push it aside.   
  
“Where are you going?”

Jesse had heard the archer approach, but it didn’t stop the kneejerk twitch of reaching for his gun. The leather of Hanzo's glove creaked in response. “Gonna find a way out t’ the workshop 'n find Brigitte.”  


Hanzo gave an acknowledging hum but made no attempt to move.

Jesse slipped into the tunnel and looked back, “You comin’? Ain't much of anything to do with he building dark.”

Hanzo leaned to look past him, eyes sweeping over the tunnel as if judging it and everyone that had even set a finger on helping build it. Then, he took a step forward and held his hand out, gesturing for Jesse to lead.

“The tunnels are probably gonna reek the closer we get to the outside. Animals like to leave their fish down here and it gets uh… well it’s on my top ten of worst things I’ve smelled and that list also includes a town that had a Scitalis nestin’ in it that baked everyone alive.”

Hanzo curled his lip up and then glanced down the hallway again, looking unamused and impatient, “I will be fine. If you are going to go, then go. Otherwise, I’ll find my own way.”   
  
Jesse shook his head frantically, “Wouldn’t recommend that, Shimada. These tunnels are a labyrinth.”

The look the archer shot him would have curdled milk, “Oh no,  _ a maze.  _ How would I ever survive? I might become lost forever.”

Jesse sighed and gave Hanzo an exasperated look, “C'mon, I'm bein’ serious. There's dead ends and pitfalls and God only knows what Reyes put in any of the tunnels after I left.”

Hanzo gave in after that, albeit begrudgingly, and Jesse tilted his head towards the tunnel. “I just was warning ya about the smell cause I've seen lotsa folks lose their lunch. Hell, I was one of em the first couple times. Some people do better when they expect it.”

“Can we please fix the generators so I can continue with my day?”

“Sure thing.”  _ 'Christ, he's definitely Genji's brother.’ _

The trek down the halls thankfully didn't take them close to any rotting fish or worse, but did require tentative toe-taps to ensure no pitfalls lay hidden under a seemingly innocent floor. When they finally made it to an outside facing panel, heralded by light around the frame and crashing waves, Jesse breathed a sigh of relief.

“Wait.” Hanzo cautioned, “If he was as paranoid as you say, the panels that lead outside may be trapped.”

Jesse opened his mouth and then closed it and squinted at the panel. “He would, too.” When a thorough search revealed no such traps, Jesse held his hand up to Hanzo and hesitantly pressed the switch with his left hand. The panel clicked outward and Jesse pushed it aside. The pair hissed in pain as light flooded in. When no tripwires triggered, Jesse shrugged. “Guess he never hit this one...or it got triggered years ago. Ain't no tellin’.”

Hanzo gave a half-interested hum and then brushed past him. Now that they were outside, Jesse figured Hanzo didn’t have any want or need to follow him. However, the archer stopped and waited, raising an eyebrow. Almost as if he didn’t trust Jesse to get the job done himself and was accompanying him to make sure it was completed.

Jesse stowed his lighter back in his pocket and replaced the panel, “Y’know, I knew the fundin’ situation was bad but, not quite like this.”   
  
“I doubt that the ape scientist from the Moon has any experience in remembering to pay for the electricity.”

Jesse barked a laugh and began walking, “No, suppose he wouldn’t.”

Hanzo followed along, still watching him carefully.   
  
“I ain’t gonna disappear, Shimada.”   
  
“No, but you might run off and take a nap.”   
  
“Don’t you sass me!” Jesse cast a look of faux indignation over his shoulder.

“I can’t help that you make it so easy.”

A grin pulled at one side of Jesse’s mouth, “I’d say them’s fightin’ words but--”

“You know that you’d lose? It’s alright, everyone else does too.”

Jesse shook his head, the grin spreading as he caught the glint of mischief in Hanzo’s eyes. A slight smile was pulling at the archer’s mouth. “Christ, yer worse’n any wolf. Straight for the throat.” The smile grew larger.

As they neared the workshop, the sound of angry Swedish curses and yelling grew louder and louder. The bay door was open, but with no power, Jesse doubted that anything was getting done. Torbjorn was pacing, trying to hook up anything he could to get power back, tossing tools and parts everywhere.

Jesse ducked when a wrench went flying over Torbjorn’s shoulder and straight for his head. “Whoa there! Ain’t no need to throw tools at my head!”

“Ah, your skull is thick enough. You’ll be fine!”

“I resent that.”

“Perhaps you should make it harder for the rest of us and you might not become the target of such comments.”

Torbjorn roared with laughter, “I like him!”

“Course you do,” Jesse chuckled. “Now all he needs is a beer and you two can be best friends.”

The resulting noise of disgust from the both of them was enough to get Jesse grinning. “What? Y’all could drink and chat about how dumb I am.”

“Just remember that you said it, not us.”

Jesse shrugged it off and looked toward the back. “We need to borrow Brigitte. Generators need fixing.”

“Why Brigitte? I can do it!”

“One, cause there’s an AI near them that ain’t real comfortable with your presence and two, I’d rather not try t’ turn a microwave into a generator.”

“Microwave doesn’t have enough power! Unless…” The engineer hurried over to some papers with diagrams and almost illegible formulas and notes and began flipping through them and then writing.

“Aw fuck.”

Hanzo gave him an exasperated look. “You gave him ideas.”

“I know, don't remind me.”

When they got no further answer from Torbjorn, Jesse gestured with his head towards the back and began navigating the only place in any base more dangerous than the Blackwatch tunnels. Torbjorn's workshop.

What had started as a few boxes of odds and ends had turned into small mountains of scrap and appliances. In some places, Jesse wasn't even sure how they remained standing or how either of the engineers reached the parts at the top.

Brigitte was working on what looked to be a piece of Reinhardt’s armor, hammering out a dent in the light of her forge. Jesse stopped and waited, holding up his hand and shaking his head when Hanzo tried to slip past.

“Don’t interrupt a Lindholm while they’re workin’. Good way to get hit with something... or burned.”

Hanzo stopped, pursed his lips and waited until Brigitte had set the piece aside and wiped her brow. Then, he was brushing past in an instant. “Excuse me.”

“Oh!  _ Hej hej! _ ” Brigitte looked up, “Can I help you two with something?”

“Generators are down, and the whole base is without power.” Jesse chuckled half-heartedly.

“We’ve been running on generators? That explains so much!” She quirked her mouth to one side and hummed thoughtfully. “Explains the flickers in the workshop late at night. I thought the wiring was just old.”

“We overloaded the grid with the holosim.”

“Of course you did.” She sighed and began gathering her tool belt and a case of energy tubes. “Hopefully you just ran the generators dry and didn’t like, you know, overload them.”

“Here’s to hopin’.”

“Where are we going?”

“That’s a damn good question. Spectre, where you at?”

_ “Max wired the generators onto the grid in the old intake bay for Blackwatch.” _

“Christ, alright. Brigitte, you're gonna need a light. It's real dark down there.”

She patted her hip with a smile, “Already way ahead of you!”

“Perfect.”

“So, how are we going to get there?” Brigitte leaned in, “I always wondered how you guys got anywhere. Did you guys have like, super cool spy corridors? That information isn't classified right?”

“I dunno about super cool but they were certainly… something.” Jesse snorted as he started walking out. As they passed Torbjorn, he paled. A microwave had moved to Torbjorn's desk. “Keep an eye on him, he's tryin’ to turn that thing into a generator.”

Brigitte groaned and rolled her eyes, “Don't blow anything up, Papa.”

“I won't! Go fix the generator so those boys will stop fussing.”

“Us?! You threw a wrench at me!”

“It's a pity you ducked, it might have done you good.” Torbjorn grumbled, brandishing his claw half-heartedly over his shoulder.

“I'll show you a damn pity,” Jesse grumbled back without an ounce of venom in his words.

“Oh stop it, you two. You're worse than children!”

“He started it?” Jesse teased gently, playing along with the accusations of childishness.

Brigitte and Hanzo scoffed almost in unison, one playfully exasperated and the other completely unamused.

_ “You’re all just  _ adorable _ but I’m in the red over here. ‘5%’ isn’t a good look on me.” _

“Shit darlin’, I’m sorry. We’re on our way.” Jesse turned on his heel and started walking more briskly back to the tunnel he and Hanzo had come through.

“I have been trying to make you move this entire time, and  _ that _ is what finally makes you hurry?”

“Don’t you talk bad ‘bout Spectre.” Jesse grumbled without looking back.

“I made no such comments about her.  _ You, _ on the other hand…”

Jesse huffed as he pressed a bit too hard on the switch, moving the panel aside rather roughly.

“What is this?” Brigitte peered in and then back up at him with confusion written on her face.

“Blackwatch tunnel, sorry t’ disappoint but ain’t nothin’ fancy ‘bout how we got around.”

“Awwww,” She whined, reaching for her flashlight and clicking it on. “Nothing at all?”

“Not on base,” Jesse grunted as he replaced the panel behind Hanzo.

She cursed softly and then shined the light down the tunnel. “It’s kinda… creepy, actually.”

Jesse held out his hand for the light as he passed her, flicking it over the ground quickly and then up toward the ceiling, which had been carved tall enough that even guys like Irving didn’t brush the tops of their heads. “Watch your step and yer nose, ain’t been no one to keep these clear of animals dropping their dinner down here and I know for a fact the intake bay had to be cleaned a lot.” He was usually on that unfortunate duty. Especially since he had a penchant for being in trouble all the time when he was younger.

Thankfully, either Max had been keeping the halls near the intake clean, or the animals had stopped using the tunnels as their pantry because even as they got close enough that it should have hit them all like a freight train, the smell was no worse than going down to a beach.

Jesse rapped his knuckles on the panel when they got to it, glad that the well-used ones were marked plainly, even if Reyes complained about it. “Spectre, darlin’?”

There was no response, but the panel, one of few that were still electronically controlled, clicked and then slid open. A simple but feminine omnic shell sat slumped on the ground, connected to one of the server towers. Across the room sat some fairly new generators, or at least, newer than then bases’s old ones.

Brigitte hurried to them and began looking them over while Jesse took a seat next to the body that Spectre sometimes uploaded to. When she didn't respond, he sighed and patted the arm of the shell. “Sorry darlin’, we'll get you up and runnin’ in no time.”

Hanzo took up watching Brigitte work almost curiously. Although they were chatting about the work, Jesse wasn't quite paying attention. Instead, he was lost in memories of some of the times he'd been in this intake bay. They didn't come to Gibraltar often after Rome was built, but in the early days, it was often the closest they ever got to a sunny beach vacation.

Brigitte announced her triumph what seemed like a few moments later, starting up the generators and letting them run for a moment before switching the power back on.

The lights flickered and the base slowly powered on with a low hum.

_ “Starting in backup power mode. Some functions may run slowly or be unavailable.”  _ Athena announced.

_ “One of those functions is her personality.” _ Spectre retorted.

_ “No one else complains about my personality.” _

_ “There's nothing there to complain about!” _

"Ladies, play nice.”

Spectre pushed herself up from the floor and disconnected the wire from where she'd plugged it into a port on her wrist. _ “Jesse, you should know by now that I was being nice.” _ She looked mildly shaken, or as much as an omnic could, and looked at the generators.

Jesse followed her gaze and frowned, “Brigitte, those ain't gonna last with so many people comin’ in. They may've been fine for four people but we need to go look into the base's old gennies.”

_ “There’s a reason Max brought these in. The old generators were eating parts near the end, it was actually more cost efficient to get new ones.” _

“Still, we oughta at least look.” These generators would do for now but if they were already getting flickers with the people on base, how many more before the generators couldn't handle the load? “If they're too far gone, I'll try to get us more in. We need something.”

_ “All agents report to the conference room.” _

“Or it could wait,” Jesse sighed as he stood and brushed off. “Who wants to tell Winston the 'good news’?”

“Isn't that _your_ job?” Brigitte teased.

“Probably,” Jesse sighed, accepting his fate as Winston's, hopefully temporary, right hand man. “Let's get going then.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late upload y'all
> 
> Between long hours at work and losing what I was going to do with this chapter until Ladi shoved some plot holes at me, I admittedly only just finished writing this one.


	33. Chapter 33

Winston had shut down access to all the holosimulators and suspended missions following the power fiasco three weeks ago and the resulting meeting afterwards. When the lights continued to flicker, he instructed Athena to turn all non-vital lights on sensors. That second order had almost gotten McCree shot later that night. The cowboy, transformed for the full moon, had gone wandering down halls that lit up with sensors on his way outside.

Hana had been up late and while she vehemently denied that McCree had even startled her, blaming it instead on hunter’s instinct, the scorch marks from her pistol on McCree’s left arm told a different story.

Hanzo had been surprised how well McCree had taken it, laughing it off as he gently scrubbed them the next morning at breakfast and admitting that it had probably served him right for not waiting until he was outside. Winston released McCree from his probation when Hana admitted that the cowboy hadn’t done anything more than shield himself with his arms when she’d fired on him.

In their boredom, most of the agents including McCree and himself, had taken to sparring in one of the training rooms.  McCree still joked that Hanzo was awake too early for his tastes, but other than an additional cup of coffee, it didn’t seem to bother the cowboy too much. The training had been pushing McCree harder, and it was getting harder to pin him. Much harder, in fact. However, when the cowboy wasn’t angry, he was more predictable and easier to subdue, and that was likely the only reason McCree still hadn’t won a match.

The past week had probably been the most entertaining, if doing mass amounts of paperwork and data entry could be considered entertainment. McCree had invited Hanzo to help him with sorting out data after they were done training. With all of his codes, including his Blackwatch ones reinstated, McCree had set himself on gathering as much information from the Blackwatch archives as he could access. Although Hanzo had been reluctant at first, since it required that he remain in close proximity to the cowboy for long periods of time, the wealth of information locked away in the Blackwatch vaults was too promising to ignore.

It helped that when McCree was working on paperwork, or doing anything that required concentration, he didn't talk much. Occasionally, he hummed and grimaced or closed his eyes and pinched his the bridge of his nose, but his joking demeanor all but vanished while he was working. Most of the time.

Today, the only difference was that McCree was especially quiet, not even offering much small talk or direction. Not that he needed to, they’d color-coded icons earlier in the week to make sorting faster. He slid another document over to Hanzo's holoscreen with a purple icon, and went back to typing away and reading old reports. Purple meant Talon. There'd been a lot of those today. Come to think of it, that was probably why he was so quiet. Hanzo had paid more attention to McCree’s mannerisms than anyone else. After he’d stopped suspecting McCree of intending anyone any harm, he had continued out of habit and it had helped significantly in determining the cowboy’s sometimes odd reactions.

When the silence finally became unbearable, Hanzo sighed, “Unpleasant memories?”

The cowboy hummed, popping a handful of trail mix in his mouth from a small bowl on the desk, but kept reading, eventually switching the white icon out for a yellow. Possible Talon involvement. So much for conversation.

Hanzo sighed and opened it, then sorted it to its correct folder. McCree had access to the files and his own memories of the mission, but Hanzo provided a different insight. Granted, that insight was that of someone raised to run a criminal empire, but it served a purpose.

“Pretty sure that one is them, but there was never anythin’ concrete. Just that it was real screwy and we never figured out why.”

Hanzo glanced at the mission report. McCree had written it, just as he had written most of the files they were sorting. They were all scanned documents, and earlier in the week, McCree had admitted that he’d scanned them and had Max and Spectre encode them. When Hanzo asked why, McCree admitted that when things went downhill and Reyes torched everything, he wanted backups.

The mission report was a later one, and like most of those written later, it was very to-the-point. McCree’s early reports had either reported too much or too little, but years of practice had left only the necessities. Unfortunately, it also meant that any little details that might have pointed them in the right direction were left out.   
  
“It’s a pity you became so efficient at writing reports.”   
  
“Yeah, was thinkin’ the same damn thing.”

“Are there other reports from the same mission?”   
  
“Lookin’ for ‘em, but I couldn’t back up everything. Too many missions, not enough time to devote to it. I was too busy runnin’ my own ops and the ones with Reyes. I’ve got all of mine from every mission I went on, but God only knows if I was able to back up any of the others on my team, much less anyone else’s.”

“What about Max?”   
  
“I’ll have to ask him when he’s more readily available.”   
  
“And Spectre?” Hanzo didn’t really want to ask the snarky female AI, but chances were that she knew whatever Max did.   
  
Jesse chuckled half-heartedly, “Well, I could ask her, but we need this all sorted first. If we ask now, we’re going to make our work a least a hundred times as hard.”

Hanzo grimaced and then went back to reading. What had been a simple mission briefing, ‘investigate disappearances in Welcome, Lousiana’ had turned into 300 civilian casualties, and all bodies found inside a church in town. A small coven of vampires, had been found in the area and ‘put down’ as McCree had worded it, but his report also mentioned that none of the dead bore injuries consistent with a vampire attack. However, other than mentioning that the injuries weren’t consistent with  _ any  _ known monsters and were quite possibly the work of mass poisoning, there wasn’t much else.

“Got Reyes’ from the same mission. Morrison’s too. Shit, here’s two more from the other agents there. Musta really bugged me.”

“You don’t remember?”

“That was over a decade ago ‘n there were a lot of missions that bugged me. I remember my leaves and a buncha missions, even if I wished I didn’t on the latter, but not much of the in-between. It all just blurred together.”

Hanzo nodded. Much of the time since he nearly killed Genji, especially while he was still in the clan was an unpleasant blur of memories he wished he’d just forget. “After I attacked Genji, many of my memories became a blur as well.”

“Doc says it’s the brain’s way of protectin’ itself from trauma.”

Hanzo snorted, “Mine should do a better job then.”

McCree barked out a surprised laugh, chuckling and nodding, “Shit, mine too.”

They returned to work, McCree’s silence now broken. “So here’s the other reports for that mission, we can go over them later with whatever Spectre has on ‘em.”

Hanzo created a folder for all the reports, labeling it with ‘Welcome Poisonings’ and then moving them over while McCree started on another one.

“Fuck, more Talon. This is when they started gettin’ bad.” The cowboy was opening several in order, “Talon, Talon, Talon, fucking Christ. Another Talon.”

“Did you not realize at the time?”

“Oh no, I knew it was bad. There’s a hell of a lot of reasons I feel the need to plant a bullet in every damn Talon asshole I see. It’s just seein’ all this...” He grimaced, “Makes me wonder if we weren’t just doin’ exactly what Talon wanted. Went and made ourselves the villain while Talon walked free.  _ Still  _ walks free. We took ‘em in alive, they got broken out to commit more terrible shit the next day. We killed ‘em and the bad press brought down all of Overwatch. Whole thing’s fuckin’ broken.”

Hanzo nodded, moving the mass of files to the ‘Talon’ folder.

McCree finally stretched in his chair and groaned. “I think I’m just about done with lookin’ at all this shit for now. It’s just about lunch, anyway.”

“Does your stomach ever stop thinking about food?”

The cowboy chuckled as he dumped the last handful of trail mix into mouth, “Naw.”

Hanzo curled his lip with a disgusted grunt. He didn’t mean it, he’d since learned that McCree was almost always hungry and it had something to do with his being a werewolf. “Come then, mutt.”

“Ooh, I got promoted!” McCree laughed as he stood up from his chair and gathered his bowl, “Movin’ up in the world.”

“Hush, fool.”

“Wow, two in one day!”

Hanzo sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. “Reinhardt will eat all of the food if you do not hurry.”

“Naw, more like Brigitte.  _ Rein _ would save me a plate.” The thought had gotten the cowboy moving faster though and he brushed past with a mumbled, “Scuse me.”

\---

After lunch was when he and McCree split up for the day. The cowboy went to go do whatever it was that he did while Hanzo went to meditate. Hanzo thought he remembered the cowboy saying something about a midday...something. Perhaps it was a reset or something to help the man relax. However, today, as soon as McCree had turned to walk away and disappeared down the hall, Athena requested all agents to the hangar bay. Hanzo chuckled at the loud whine down the hall and the click of McCree’s boots returning. He must not have been hiding his smile as well as he thought, because the cowboy looked distinctly unamused.

“Winston mentioned that someone was supposed to be coming in this week.” Hanzo reminded him.

“Right, ri-- Wait, shit. I think he said something about ‘Reeha!” McCree’s foul mood disappeared in the blink of an eye and he picked up his pace. Hanzo wasn’t sure who this “Reeha” person was, McCree must have been close with them. His curiosity didn’t have long to wait.

“God, it’s been years since I’ve seen her! Wonder if she stuck with the military like she said she was gonna do? I know her ma wasn’t too happy ‘bout that.”

“I assume she is a good friend of yours?”

“Bratty younger sister, more like. ‘Reeha is Ana Amari’s daughter. She’s like five years younger’n me but she ran off t’ join the Egyptian military when she was 18. Her ma threw a fit.” The smile faded, “Ain’t seen ‘er since the funeral.”

“I see.” Hanzo had heard a lot about Ana Amari. Genji had talked about her and McCree often when Hanzo first arrived, usually when Hanzo had tolerated his presence. It was mostly because Genji wanted to see a shooting competition between the three of them and after seeing her scores in the simulators, Hanzo wanted a shooting competition with her too. Unfortunately, she had been dead for years, and her student was as good as he was going to get. Even if said student cheated to win. He wondered if her daughter was as good of a shot. Perhaps he had some new competition?

They were among the last agents to reach the hangar, followed only by Zarya, who seemed mostly disinterested. The request had likely interrupted her weightlifting. Dr. Zeigler wasn’t there at all.

The first person off the carrier was not Ana's daughter. Instead, a young presumably Chinese woman stepped off, and immediately ran to hug Winston.

“Shit, Mei ain't aged a day.” McCree commented, shifting his weight, “Good to see her in good health though. Winston mentioned somethin’ went wrong at her research station but wouldn't say what.”

Hanzo glanced over at the melancholy tone. McCree probably knew more than he let on, but Hanzo didn't question him. When Mei turned away from Winston, she had tears streaming down her face but was smiling. At least, until her eyes landed on him. He smile dropped a fraction, expression caught between confusion and fear, and then she bowed to the others, apologized profusely and hurried out.

“The hell was that about?” McCree leaned to look out the hangar door. “Mei's always been super friendly. You two met somewhere before?”

Hanzo shook his head and then sighed, “It is possible she recognizes me.”

“Mmm, she did know Genji, yeah.” McCree seemed a little exasperated. “But yer here on base so and  _ I’m  _ standin’ next t’ ya, of all people.”

“If you are worried about me, you do not need to. I am used to it.” He probably deserved it anyway.

“I mean, I'm used to being called a murderer and a terrorist, but don't mean it doesn't suck.”

Hanzo hummed dismissively. He was sick of the whispers and stares, but not for the same reason as McCree. McCree genuinely cared what people thought of him while Hanzo just grew tired of being stared at. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

A woman called for assistance with her bags from inside the carrier and Brigitte ran inside to help. McCree followed, chuckling, “Guess I oughta go help out.”

Hanzo snorted, but didn’t follow. He did not know her and frankly, she was just one more person to stare at him suspiciously and whisper.

There had been some excited yelling when Brigitte stepped onto the carrier and animated chatting, but it hardly compared to the excited Arabic and blur of tan and blue that shot from the carrier when McCree set foot on the ramp.

McCree must have been expecting the warm reception, because rather than being knocked backwards, he caught her and spun with the momentum, smiling broadly. “Hey there, brat!”

“ _Me?_ _ I  _ joined the _military_!” She laughed as he set her down.

“And then Helix, apparently.” His eyes flicked down to the symbol on the bags Brigitte was walking off with.

“Better than robbing trains.”

“I-- Now that’s damn rude!”

“You’re not denying it. Jesse, we raised you better.”

“Fareeha! I did  _ not _ rob a train.” The cowboy protested as he followed the younger Amari back onto the carrier. “Now, hitchhiking without buyin’ a ticket…That I’m guilty of.”

“Jesse!”

“You ever tried t’ buy a ticket on a bullet train as an internationally wanted man?”

“Can’t say I have. For starters, last I checked I wasn’t a man, Jess.”

“Don’t you start with me, brat.”

Hanzo shook his head at the exchange between the two. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought them actual siblings, rather than adopted. It reminded him a lot of when he and Genji were younger. Back before all they did was fight and yell. He sighed. Perhaps when Genji returned, they could go somewhere together, like an arcade. Did Genji still like arcades? Probably. He seemed a fan of hanging out with Hana.

The others cheering at laughing broke him out of his thoughts. At some point, a sparring match, no, a playfight, had broken out between the two. Fareeha had McCree trapped in a chokehold. At least for a moment. Hanzo already knew what was coming. He’d tried to take McCree down with a rear choke, similar to the one that McCree was in now and been tossed unceremoniously over the cowboy’s shoulder after the cowboy had tucked his chin down and to the side, stopping the lock. Fareeha had not caught herself with her feet like Hanzo did and was now flat on her back. McCree offered her a hand up, grinning. At some point, he’d lost his hat.

“May’ve taught you lots of stuff in the military, but they didn’t teach ya like Jefe.”

She pushed his hand aside and hopped up, waving him off, “I’m not even being serious. Meet me in the ring tomorrow, and I’ll put you on your ass, Jess.”

“As if. I still got more tricks than you do.”

Hanzo snorted, “Don’t let him lie to you. I spar with him every morning. He has yet to beat me.”

McCree spluttered and spun on his heel with a betrayed expression while Fareeha postured up, looking offended for the cowboy. Thankfully, McCree had taken it for the joke it was and played along.

“Now c'mon, that ain't fair. I could take ya in a real fight and you know it.” He held up his left arm, “I can't really use this in a spar, ya saw what I did to the wall… and the door.”

Hanzo snorted and shook his head. He also knew that the cowboy could be delicate with that hand. He’d seen him twirl cigars and coins across his fingers with a deftness that Hanzo didn’t quite expect from an arm so dented and bulky. “You are not fooling me with your excuses.”

“Excuses? I’m tryin’ to be nice and not send ya to Doc!”

“You are welcome to  _ try,  _ cowboy.”

“I’d rather not, knowing our sorry luck, power would go out while Doc was workin’ on ya.”

Hanzo grimaced and curled his lip. The cowboy assumed that he would even allow Dr. Zeigler to touch him. That woman would likely botch whatever she had to do to him on purpose. He saw the way she looked at him. He would  _ never  _ let her touch him.

“Why would the power go out?” Fareeha butted back in.

Winston cleared his throat, “We can discuss it in one of the debriefing rooms. Mei has been in contact with me frequently enough that she is aware of the issues.”

“What issues?”

McCree laughed almost mockingly, “All of them. Be easier to count what isn’t an issue.”

“Jesse, Hanzo, if you could come with us? Reinhardt too, please.”

Hanzo nodded amongst the other two agreeing. He already knew why McCree was going, and he had a guess at why Reinhardt, but he didn’t quite understand why Winston had requested him. Perhaps McCree had something to do with it, or because he was there when they had fixed the generators.

Once they had reached the nearest debriefing room, Winston turned back to them. “Fareeha, as you are likely aware, what we are doing is completely illegal.”

“And that’s  _ before _ the accounts of harboring and aiding an international war criminal.” McCree said in a falsely cheery voice.

Hanzo chuckled while Reinhardt gave a dismayed frown.

“I called you four in here with me because you all have experience leading, in some capacity. Reinhardt, Fareeha and Jesse have commanded teams, though Fareeha's was with Helix, correct?”

“Yes. We were looking into Anubis recently.”

“And Hanzo, I believe you are very familiar with business?”

Hanzo frowned, “I am.” ‘ _ Somewhat unfortunately.’  _ At least his training and education would not go to waste. Here it could be used for a better purpose, even if it was still very illegal. “I could look into methods of covering what we are doing. Perhaps find someone not related to the original Overwatch to buy the base?”

McCree made an interested noise, “Someone else renovates the place, it wouldn’t be suspicious. Gibraltar's always been a research base, someone's bound t’ wanna buy it eventually. Could put it back on the grid too. That’d solve our power problem. Those gennies won't hold forever.”

“What generators?”

“The old backups and the ones Max brought in to keep the base--”

“Max?!” Fareeha’s head popped up and she stared at Jesse. “Max is here? Max is  _alive?!_  Where is he?”

“Well, he’s not  _ here _ right now. He’s in Nepal.”

“Why is he in Nepal?”

“Went with Genji.”

“Wh-- Jess that answers  _ nothing. _ Why aren’t  _ you  _ in Nepal?”

“Why would I be? They’re technically on leave.”

Hanzo followed the two with his eyes as Fareeha reproachfully glared at McCree, who watched her half-heartedly with a stone-faced expression.

“Jess, what about--”

“Ain’t really the place t’ go pullin’ up the past, we can talk about that later.”

She opened her mouth, looked about and then huffed. “Fine. Later.”

“Back to the subject at hand, who the hell do we know that can buy the base?”

That was a good question. The only three people Hanzo knew of with enough possible money would be immediately suspicious, or in Hanzo’s own case, dangerous.  McCree was a fugitive, and an individual buying an old paramilitary research base was beyond suspicious. Hanzo was no longer tied to his clan, and buying the base under any of the business names used by his family would immediately put him in great danger. Max certainly had the money, but was again, an individual. As far as he knew, no one else had a business to tie the base to.

Everyone had fallen silent, suddenly realizing the simple solution wasn't so simple.

“Well, shit.” McCree finally huffed, removing his hat and brushing a hand through his hair. “Seemed like a good idea.”

“It is, if we can find someone.” Fareeha sighed and then turned her attention to McCree. “By the way Jesse, what  _ did _ happen to your arm? It wasn't like that the last time I saw you.”

McCree paled a little, looked down and flexed the fingers of his left hand before clearing his throat. “I uh… well, 'bout six months after I left Blackwatch I ran into some… trouble.”

Hanzo watched McCree fumble nervously over the explanation, almost the same way he had almost every time Hanzo had seen him explain.

“What  _ kind  _ of trouble, Jess? You're missing half your arm!”

The cowboy tipped his hat down and ducked his head, finally mumbling, “The werewolf kind.”

_ “Jesse!” _ Fareeha shoved herself up, causing Hanzo to tense. Was she going to be the one to take the news poorly?

It seemed Reinhardt had the same thought, because he also rose with a hand up, “Sit down, Fareeha. He's not dangerous.”

Fareeha made a face, “I wasn't going to shoot him. He's practically my brother!” She looked back at the hunched cowboy, “What happened?”

“Later, ‘Reeha.”

She pursed her lips, sighed and sat down. “Fine.”

“So,” Reinhardt started as he sat back down, “Is there anything else, Winston, my friend?

“All of our problems currently stem from the organization being very illegal and very underfunded. Until that is solved, hopefully by Hanzo’s suggestion of someone buying the base, we are going to keep experiencing issues.”

He wasn’t lying. Power, repairs, even large amounts of food and ammo had to be taken care of quietly.

“Well, in the meantime, me ‘n Shimada over there--”

Fareeha sucked in a sharp breath as her head whipped around to stare at him. Hanzo met her eyes and set his shoulders. Let her think what she would of him.

“--workin’ on sortin’ the old records.”

“Please do.” Winston nodded, “Some of the information you have already sent me has proved invaluable in tracing patterns of their attacks over the years.”

“With any luck, we can start predictin’ where they’re headed and stop ‘em from turnin’ whole towns into vampires, or, knowin’ Talon… worse.”

Hanzo grimaced but unfortunately, after reading all of the reports they’d been sorting, some out of curiosity and some out of necessity, he knew it was true. The only thing they had left now was unleashing some kind of biological weapon on the world and holding the only recipe for the cure. Bile rose in his throat at the idea, likely the only thing that separated him from being just like them.

“We’ll meet again when we have a better plan for the funding problem.” Winston sighed, “Everyone but Fareeha is dismissed. Fareeha, I have some questions for you.”   
  
“Of course, Winston.” 


	34. Chapter 34

Two days later had brought them no closer to an answer on the subject of who could legally take over Watchpoint: Gibraltar without suspicion from the UN. Not for a lack of trying, of course, but the answer wasn’t as clear cut as the solution made it seem. The only thing that  _ had _ happened in the last two days was a slight breakthrough in a few of the archived Blackwatch reports, supplemented by knowledge from Fareeha. 

When she’d found out about Jesse and Hanzo’s pet project, she’d requested very firmly to be involved. Hanzo hadn’t shown up for the first day of that, but he had yesterday. As far as Jesse was concerned, it had gone well. They were all real quiet while they worked, and while it probably would have made the time drag on if any of them were concerned with what time it was, they all had unanimously decided they were done working at some point and gone their separate ways. Today had been much the same.

He sprawled across a chair in the common room, groggily staring at the ceiling after a bit too much for lunch. Now and again, his head would clear enough from the impending food coma to consider the new findings. Talon activity had been reported in more areas than Athena was catching, and the patterns were painted a grim picture. Most of the affected areas were countries with governments generally deemed exploitable, as horrible of a thought as that was. Talon was pushing for something. It was almost like they were lighting matches everywhere and hoping one caught, but for what, Jesse didn’t quite know. At first it seemed like money, but some of the countries hit were already unstable and poor. The answer felt so close, just on the tip of his tongue, but still hopelessly out of reach. The assassination of Mondatta, the attempted assassination of Katya Volskaya, the attack in Mexico.If not money, then what?

He scratched at his spine, wiggling uncomfortably in his chair. The last month had practically blurred past and it was hard to believe that he was already a few days from another shift. Most of the time, the months seemed to drag, though the constant running probably hadn’t helped that. He closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh through his nose. At least he could take life a month at a time now. That alone had done wonders for his sleep, and his mood.

Maybe he’d read, or go train. Hanzo kept ragging on him about how out of shape he was. He could start getting some weights in after lunch, like he used to. Yeah, that would be good. He couldn’t let Reeha have bigger guns than him, that just wasn’t fair. A smile spread across his face at the thought.

His comm suddenly beeped and he twisted to get it. It beeped again before he could get it out of his pocket. He’d expected Hanzo, but instead a vaguely familiar number greeted him. The comm started ringing before he had a chance to look at the messages.

He hesitated for a moment, staring at it in confusion before tentatively answering. “Hello?”

“Jesse?” The German accent threw Jesse off for a moment, and he didn’t answer, “It’s Frederick Lange.”

“O-oh! One sec… Lemme--” Jesse threw his legs over the couch and rolled to his feet. Frederick Lange and his pack were one of Blackwatch’s best kept secrets. Jesse had no intention of changing that now.

“Let you?” The older man asked with a slightly amused tone.

“Just one sec.”    


“Is this a bad time?”   
  
“No! I’m just--” He slipped out of the common room and picked up a quick pace to one of the nearest tunnels, dropping his voice, “Kinda in public.”

“Oh. I see.”

Jesse was quiet until he got into one of the tunnels, well away from any panel and leaned on the wall, “What can I do for ya, Mr. Lange?”

“Jesse, please. You may call me Frederick.”   
  
“Habit, sir. Habit and manners.”

Frederick chuckled softly and then the humor died, “We have been having some strange occurrences in the last several months, and five members of my pack have gone missing. Five  _ loyal _ members who have lived in the pack since they were children.  _ Charlotte  _ is missing.”

Jesse sucked in a breath. Charlotte was Frederick’s second-in-command, so to speak. She wouldn’t leave, especially not without warning or reason. “What kind of strange occurrences?”

“I-- I can’t explain it, Jesse. Movement in Eichenwalde, strange smells and lights in the town recently. It smells like death there.”

Jesse gave a slight whine, head lolling back. Had to be Talon. “I’ll… I’ll see if I can get Winston to clear me as soon as I can.”

“Winston?”

“Long story. Short of it is that the band’s back together.”

“I see.” 

“I’ll probably be alone. Genji ain’t around, and well… neither is anyone else, really. For reason or another.”

“I heard about Max and Gabriel. I’m sorry, Jesse.”

Jesse bit his lip, trying to find words. “Max is-- Max is fine. It’s… a long story.”

“Seems many things are long stories, Jesse.”

“Last several years have been a special sort of complicated.”

Frederick chuckled but did not press for more information, “I hope I will see you soon.”

“Me too.”

The call ended with a click and Jesse slid down the wall, burying his face in his knees. Talon was after the Langes now, after Jesse had done everything he could to stay far away from them. Moira couldn’t have known about them, they only rarely visited the Langes. He shook his head and pushed himself up. He couldn’t do them any good sitting in a tunnel feeling sorry. Instead, he dialed Winston and waited.

“Yes, Agent McCree?”

“You alone?”

“Yes?”

“Good, I got a favor t’ ask.”

“McCree, what is this about?” The scientist already sounded exasperated.

“Talon lead, but the favor is I have to go alone.”

“Absolutely not! You are the only one with access to very important data, McCree. If something were to happen--”

“If Genji or Max was here, I’d take them, but they aren’t. I  _ need  _ to go alone Winston.”

“Why?”

“To protect the identities of some folks, that’s all I can tell you.”

“Double agents?”

“No,  _ innocent  _ people, Winston. Civilians.”

The scientist was quiet for a moment, and then sighed, “I can’t let you go alone, Jesse.”

Jesse opened his mouth and then closed it, “Civilians are gonna die if I don’t go, Winston.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t go, I just won’t send you  _ alone. _ ”

“I’m capable of handling myself, Winston. Reyes sent me solo lots of places.”

“I’m not Reyes and this isn’t Blackwatch.”

“I can’t take a full team.”

“I’m not asking for a full team. I’d prefer it, but at least take someone. Anyone.”

Jesse closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could trust Fareeha, but she wasn’t exactly stealthy and neither was Lena. Genji and Max were in Nepal. He couldn’t take anyone else, they couldn’t know about the Langes. Hanzo. Hanzo was stealthy, and he could keep a secret. Hanzo hadn’t ratted him out. He’d understand.

“Shimada. I’ll take Shimada.”

“And where will you be?” 

“In Eichenwalde.” The pack was hidden well away from the ruined town, they’d be safe even with him saying that. With any luck, Hanzo wouldn’t even see the pack.

“Approved. Do not engage if Talon forces are present.”

“Hadn’t intended on it.”

“Good. I’ll let Hanzo know.”

 

\---

 

It turned out that Hanzo didn’t particularly appreciate being volunteered for a mission with almost no information and Jesse received the full brunt of his ire. “After all of lecturing you gave Winston for sending a team of three to Mexico unprepared, you expect me to just walk onto that jet with you without any information?!”

“I’m not asking you to get on that jet without any information. I just couldn’t tell Winston the full story. If it were up to me, I’d be going alone but Winston ain’t havin’ that. You’re the only one here stealthy enough for a recon mission capable of keeping secrets.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, looked him up and down and then raised his eyebrow. Jesse knew that look. 

“I am perfectly capable of recon missions, thank you.”

“So I have been volunteered for a recon mission, in Eichenwalde… why?”

“Winston didn’t tell you? Shit, I told him that much.”

Hanzo deadpanned.

“Okay, so. Full story is that back in the day, Blackwatch had some civilian friends that would feed us information. Only select folks even knew about them. Max, myself, Reyes, and Genji, although your brother didn’t really know  _ where _ they were until later.”

Hanzo snorted and looked amused. Jesse was glad he didn’t have to explain  _ why  _ Genji didn’t know prior to the… incident.

“Well, some of them had access to a certain channel, which has become active with all of this,” he gestured at the hangar, “being active. One of them noticed and requested help. It sounds like Talon’s involved.”

Hanzo was quiet and then shifted Stormbow’s weight as he turned toward the jet and began walking, “Very well. Anything else?”

“Besides orders not to engage? Not really.” 

Hanzo shook his head, “How likely do you think it will be that we have to disobey those orders?”

“Hopefully not at all, if we’re lucky.” 

“And if we are unlucky?”

“Let’s hope we’re not unlucky.”

The look he received could have curdled milk.

“I wish I had more information. You know I don’t like walking in without any.”

The archer gave a disapproving sigh, but still boarded the jet.

Jesse followed. “We shouldn’t be there long, just enough to see what’s going on in Eichenwalde and find out if we need t’ bring a whole team.”

“I do not like this.”

“You say that like I do.”

“What did your contact tell you?”

“Five people have disappeared, people that wouldn’t just… disappear. Said that he’s seen strange things in Eichenwalde and the town smells of death. I’ve been to Eichenwalde, the only thing that town usually smells of is rotting wood and forest.”

“I see. You’re sure it’s Talon?”

“If it’s not, it’s still our business. Ain’t no tellin’ what it could be if it ain’t Talon. My bet would be kids that are messin’ with things they ought not to.”

Hanzo closed his eyes in wearied disgust. “I almost hope its Talon.”

“Not in the mood to deal with a bunch of dumb teenagers hopped up on demon magic?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Me neither.”

The jet shuddered as Athena lifted them into the air, leaving only the sound of the engines in the silence. 

“McCree, I have been meaning to ask…” Hanzo began, staring at the empty cockpit.

“Shoot.”

Hanzo’s expression twisted, brow furrowing for a moment before he continued, “They say you can shoot a dozen men with half as many bullets.”

“Oh. That.” Jesse sighed, “Before ya ask, I don’t know how or why it works. I know it happens when I’m cornered, and it don’t work on holosims or paper targets, but it’ll work on bots, omnics, AI, people and monsters.”

The confused expression returned to Hanzo’s face.

“That’s about how I feel about it. Most folks have always figured I had some sort of innate magic but, I can’t really do it on command, ain’t got any other magical… anything, and up until this werewolf thing, I was human.” He shrugged. “What I do know is that I gotta have at least one bullet and the more things I shoot that I ain’t got bullets for, the more tired I get and its a… real different kind of tired.”

“What is your limit?”

“I don’t push my limits often. Unless there’s no other option, I won’t drop more than a dozen.”

Hanzo raised his eyebrows, as if considering the answer, “What happens if you do?”

Jesse frowned. He trusted Hanzo well enough, but some of this information seemed very personal, as if Hanzo didn’t trust him and was looking for weaknesses. “It depends on how much I push.”

“Worst case scenario?”

“Look, yer askin’ a lot of real specific questions about this--” 

“If I am going to be on missions with you with no information like this, I’d at least like to know your limits!” Hanzo snarled, “I have not requested any extra information besides that.”

“Worst case scenario, I drop where I stand and I don’t get back up without medical help. Specifically, Angela.” He gritted out the words with a set jaw.

“Do you know what that point is?”

Jesse groaned, “I dunno, twenty or thirty-somethin’? I don’t go runnin’ experiments that can kill me.”

Hanzo sighed, and gave him a weary look. “I asked because if we are going to be working together, I would like to know how much  _ I  _ need to thin large groups. Now I know.”

Well  _ that  _ certainly made him look and feel like an asshole. Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose and bowed his head. “I’m sorry for getting testy with ya. It’s a pretty big gap in my armor for folks to know at what point I drop dead.”

Hanzo shrugged, “Apology accepted. However, most people are not willing to throw two dozen soldiers at one man and  _ hope _ that he dies.”

“It works on bots, omnics and monsters, remember? All they gotta do is throw cannon fodder at me.”

“I doubt they would want to do that either, given your abilities.”

Jesse snorted, “Yeah, don’t remind me that they  _ really _ want t’ turn me into a sleeper agent and make me kill everyone I care about.”

“I’ve heard blue skin goes very well with red and plaid.”

Jesse opened his mouth and then devolved into laughter. “That’s fuckin’ terrible!”

“And yet you are laughing.” Hanzo looked like he was fighting laughter himself.

“Never said I don’t have a fucked up sense of humor.”

“I believe that is a job requirement of hunters.”

Jesse covered his mouth and tried not to laugh. 

When the laughter had died, Hanzo spoke again, and his tone had returned to its typical seriousness.“My own magic has limits as well.” 

“Huh. I’d never have guessed. Guess I ain’t really seen ya go t’ work outside Mexico and ya didn’t really pull out any magic there. So, what kinda limits?”

“You have seen my--” The archer hummed as he searched for a word. “I believe you called it ‘ninja bullshit’?”

Jesse huffed out a laugh, “Well it is.”

“I disagree but that is hardly the point. It is not like some creatures having a quickstep. In the moments before I reappear, I can not be hit. There is nothing to hit, but I can’t do it often.”

“Fair trade-off I suppose.”

“I’m also a summoner, in dire conditions.”

“I’m guessin’ it wears you out?”

“Correct.”

Jesse shrugged, “Then we just make sure we don’t get cornered by a bunch of people. Simple.”

“Simple…” the archer raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”

“Don’t say it like that! You’ll jinx us.”

“My apologies.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes at the smarmy smile but couldn’t help the crooked grin that spread across his face. He’d decided Hanzo was definitely like a cat. Not the cute ones that curled up in his armpit for a nap, the snarky kind that butted his hand and then attacked when pet. Hanzo even had that smug grin.

“We are now at cruising altitude. We will be in Eichenwalde shortly.”

“Great, sounds like time for a nap t’ me.”

 

\---

 

The shuddering of the jet as it landed woke Jesse again. He opened his eyes and stretched before looking over at where Hanzo appeared to be reading something. Come to think of it, Hanzo did read a lot in the common room with tea.

“Whatcha reading?”

Hanzo peered over the tablet. “I am catching up on books that I did not have time to read while working as an assassin.”

Jesse hummed, “Got a favorite genre?”

“Not westerns.” The archer chuckled as he looked back down at the holoscreen. From what Jesse could see, it looked to be in Japanese. He thought he picked out a few words but none of them were particularly telling. Something about a gun.

“I’m serious. What is it? No, lemme guess... a trashy romance novel? Did the front have a half-naked man a little less ripped than you are?” Jesse leaned forward, dropping his voice, “Is he the secret half-angel, half-demon, half-vampire prince of some unknown kingdom, and the strong, collected heroine can’t resist him even though she’s never needed a man before, and ya honestly don’t know what she’s sees in the guy cause he’s a fuckin’ creep but ya keep reading because it's some kind of glorious trainwreck ya can’t look away from?”

Hanzo had deadpanned up until Jesse started describing a novel that probably existed  _ somewhere. _ After that, the archer’s hand covered his mouth and he slowly devolved into soft, wheezing laughter. 

“Is his dick called something ridiculous?” Jesse raised his eyebrows as he leaned on his arm, “It’s throbbing lovewand, isn’t it?”

“It’s not--”

“Oh. God, that’s somehow worse. Tell me they didn’t go for magic--”

“Enough, you incorrigible heathen! It’s a horror-mystery!”

“Huh. That explains the gun.”

Hanzo buried his face in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “You are worse than Genji.”

“Ya wanna know why?”

“No.” The archer groaned, “...Yes.”

“Cause yer brother  _ does  _ read those trashy romance novels… or did. I dunno if he still does, should ask ‘im when he comes back. Used to read ‘em all the time in the rec room, in Japanese, ‘cause he thought he was bein’ sneaky.”

“That sounds incredibly like something he would do.”

“He forgot that most of Blackwatch knew Japanese, for obvious reasons. Most of the guys didn’t pay attention… but every now and again, I’d remind ‘im.”

Hanzo seemed to harden up at that and Jesse’s grin fell. What did he say wrong?

“If you publicly humiliated my brother--”

Oh. _OH!_ Jesse held up his hands, shaking his head and waving them, “No no no! Nothin’ like that! Most of the time I’d just send him out of context excerpts from reading over his shoulder. He knew.”

Hanzo settled down, and then chuckled a little bit, “I believe that means you have read more romance novels than I have.”

“Probably. But just whatever I caught over Genji ‘r ‘Reeha or Fio’s shoulder.”

“I don’t believe you. You know too much.”

“Look. I had at least three different friends t’ make fun of.”

“You don’t fool me.”

“Y’know, we’ve been landed for several minutes, we should-- uh.. Probably get t’ work. Before Talon notices.” It was a cheap way out, and would probably incriminate him more, but what the hell, he probably  _ had  _ read more romance novels than Hanzo, by proxy of being a little bit curious from various excerpts. Some of them had been pretty okay. He wouldn’t admit that though.

Hanzo raised an eyebrow and gave him a smug grin. Jesse didn’t care.

The jet’s engines started back up as they exited and it was raising into the air not long after to head back to the safety of the Watchpoint.

Jesse took a deep breath. He always loved the smell of-- He paused. Eichenwalde. Eichenwalde smelled like Eichenwalde. Even as a human it was a very distinct smell. No smells of death or anything.

“The town seems very quiet.” Hanzo said quietly, as if expecting a trap.

“Yeah, was thinkin’ that myself.” 

“Are we sure that your contact can be trusted?”

Jesse winced. It was a possibility. He was bad about jumping into things emotions first. “...No.”

Hanzo stared at him for a moment, sighed and shook his head. “And you didn’t consider this possibility beforehand?”

“I don’t need t’ be told that I think with my emotions. I’m aware.”

Hanzo pursed his lips but didn’t say anything further. “Regardless, we are here and there still may be something leading to Talon.”

“Yeah, might as well, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section (from last chapter on through the next several) took quite a bit of tweaking and rewriting to get the pacing better but here we are :>

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Weakness of Character](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15030812) by [LadamaB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadamaB/pseuds/LadamaB)
  * [Stolen Moments](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16074923) by [LadamaB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadamaB/pseuds/LadamaB), [UnnecessaryEllipsis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnnecessaryEllipsis/pseuds/UnnecessaryEllipsis)




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